


The Groove Crusaders: Children of Entropy

by Medicalnonsense



Series: Stardust [3]
Category: TWRP | Tupper Ware Remix Party (Band), The Groove Crusaders
Genre: Aliens, Attempted Murder, Emotional Manipulation, Gen, Outer Space, Science Fiction, Stardust series, lots of alien races to remember, mild body horror, space travel, useless nonsense
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-12-03
Updated: 2017-12-07
Packaged: 2019-02-08 04:31:25
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 9
Words: 22,175
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12856800
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Medicalnonsense/pseuds/Medicalnonsense
Summary: In Universe as Child of the Stars and Child of the Earth:  Approximately one year after CotE.In the six years following the disbanding of the Groove Crusaders, everyone has been up to their own business.  After the disaster of the gekur extermination order in the Milkyway, Doctor Sung, Havve Hogan and Lord Phobos reunited and remained together to smooth out any general badness left in the Milkyway.  All appears to be smooth until Doctor Sung approaches the estranged Commander Meouch after their years apart with troubling news. Their brother, Lord Phobos, is missing.





	1. Episode I: Pirates of the Milkyway

         The vacuum of space, though traditionally thought to be silent, is loud.  Very loud.  In the spatial drift between planets, background radiation and radio transmissions centuries old make for anything other than a quiet journey.  Out of sight to the naked eye and the terran ear, a small spacecraft was making its way between one destination and another.  By terran measure, it was no larger than what one would call an RV-camper.  Emblazoned on the side of it, was the ship’s name _Vangelis Three_.  Its movement, the spiral of radiation surrounding it to leave a detectable wake in the drift of space, made it seem poetic and almost noble.  The conversation inside, not so much.  
             “Stop touching the radio.” Doctor Sung, for the sixteenth time since leaving Earth, told Havve.  “If I have to take your hands off, I will.”  Sung batted away the robot’s fleshy appendages, re-adjusting the dial on the _Vangelis’_ dashboard.  
             While the speakers aboard screamed with the noise of a thousand different forms of radiation slamming into the _Vangelis_ , Havve glared bloody murder at Doctor Sung.  The ship’s pilot in question, continued merrily grinning as varying frequencies of brown, white, black, prisma and pink noise flooded the cabin.  
         “Ah!  Here we go!” Sung declared as a soothing frequency of white noise filled the air.  “It’s not funk, but it will have to do.”  
         In protest, Havve reached underjaw, running a finger over a switch that had far too much use already, shutting off all audio sensors.  
         Sung, catching the level of sass, sighed “It’s not that bad.  You know we’re only listening to this becau--”  
         The crackle of voices broke through the inoffensive noise, and it took Sung only a few moments to place the language, “I see he’s taken up some less than reputable company.”  
         Havve, ears still turned off, lifted a hand as if to say “I can’t hear you.”  
         “While you are smart, stop being this form of ‘smart’ with me.” Sung began, before switching back to the issue at hand, “I think we have found the fleet we’re looking for.”  
         Wiggling that hand once more, Havve was, again, a little shit, meaning “Still can’t hear you”.  If Havve was in a contrarian mood, Sung knew there would be no way to stop the barrage of sass, so the good Doctor listened to the voices; the garble of clicks and hisses that characterized the standard language of the gekur people rapidly crackled over the transceiver.  
         “ _Small craft detected._ ” Sung automatically translated, the language was easy to understand, however, speaking was less than easy.  “ _Locking on_.” Another person responded, much to Sung’s dismay.  
         “We’ve been spotted, bud.” Sung clapped Havve on the shoulder, reaching to turn on the hailing station, it wasn’t polite to arrive at someone’s home unannounced and it was even less polite to do so and not introduce yourself.  
Realizing that the situation no-longer called for sass, Havve flipped on all auditory sensors once more and brought up visual of just where those voices were coming from.  When just the side hull of the ship took up the entire viewport, neither of the two of them needed to risk potentially upsetting the crew onboard.  So, in typical Sung fashion, the _Vangelis’_ pilot greeted over the hailing frequency “ _Good day!  Or night depending upon your ship’s internal clock!_ ” Sung’s Gekurick was not…  Very polished to say the least.  
          “ _Please, speak your own tongue.  We have translators aboard…_ ”  One crewman of the opposing ship clicked in response.  
           “Ah-hah!  Do you have terran English yet?” Sung asked, waiting for a few moments with baited breath.  Havve stared out the viewport, hands resting on the ship’s dashboard.  
           “ _We do not have record of your language._ ” The gekur answered, detectable frustration within its hiss.  
           Not wishing to venture far outside of the safe harbor of the gekur’s patience, Sung groped for a more familiar language.  Eventually, Sung queued up a common language from the Andromeda galaxy as the next attempt, but the transmitter crackled to life first, “ _Our Commodore understands your language._ ” It informed.  
           “Perfect!” Sung huffed in relief, “Just who I wanted to--”  
           “ _The Commodore isn’t present.  Wait._ ”  The surly gekur ordered, the line going dead.  
           With communication terminated, Havve and Sung were left to their own devices for a tense ten minutes.  Sung stood and paced, hands wringing one another while Havve continued to stare out the viewport, examining the crude emblem on the flagship’s side.  Their last run-in with a group such as this one had gone a lot worse from the get go.  Havve only stopped to share a look with Sung when an eleventh minute and a twelfth minute passed.  Prolonged radio silence never boded well, and while Havve was not given to nervous fidgets, the robot began to drum two fingers on the _Vangelis_ ’ dash.  
         “Unidentified craft, state your business.”  A stringent, official voice came over the _Vangelis’_ audio; it was a wave of comfort against the harshness of the situation.  
         “Yes, hello!  We are the _Vangelis_ and I--uh, the Captain of this vessel--and my First Mate seek an audience with this flotilla’s Commodore.”  Lips pursed, Sung awaited some kind of a response.  Fearing a knee-jerk rejection to the request, Sung added  “It is of the utmost importance that we speak with the Commodore.”  
         “You will be escorted in by security.  I trust you won’t try anything _stupid_?” The Commodore questioned.  What did the Commodore _mean_ by stupid?  Doctor Sung was not particularly given to flights of fancy when it came to fighting.  Unless it was to split atoms with a high-kick causing nuclear fission for a party trick.  Considering that such a move would doubtlessly destroy a ship in the vacuum of space…  That was the stupidest idea anyone could _ever_ have.  
         “My  intentions are non-violent.” Sung reassured, leaning away from the console as the transmission terminated.  Releasing a breath, Sung flashed a megawatt smile and a thumbs ups to Havve “Woo!  Let’s go, bud!”  
  
         The hangar of the flotilla flagship--the name of which Sung’s spongy lips could not ever hope to pronounce--was filled with ships that the _Vangelis’_ crew could only assume were stolen.  Technology from across galaxies and dozens of planets rested, floated or stuck to the insides of the massive space.  In sloppy strokes of paint, or ichor, or pillaged bodily fluids, each ship bore the same symbol.  It made Doctor Sung’s integument layers crawl to be in the presence of such infamous space pirates, but it was necessary.  
         “ _Step out!_ ” A bright red, hulk of a gekur chattered, a pair of weapons braced in its four arms.  All eight of its front-facing eyes stared Sung and Havve down, its spider-like mandibles grinding together over its mouth of teeth.  The spiralling horns atop its head marked it as an Elder of its species, and that was all Sung needed to know.  It didn’t matter that the Elders were legally bound to their partitioned planet and so shouldn’t have been here anyway. Both Sung and Havve put their hands up where they could be seen, even if the gekur had been declawed, it didn’t make it any less dangerous.  
         Flanking the Elder gekur on either side was a swathe of smaller, evidently younger gekur--young enough to still have their claws--and a smattering of other races.   _At least_ , Sung remarked internally, _they’re all working together peacefully._  The code of pirates, oddly, held more morality than some so-called “peaceful” societies in the Milkyway.  
         “ _Move_.” The Elder gekur ordered, nudging Sung’s back with its heat rifle.  
         “Much obliged.” Sung answered amicably enough, striding in the only possible direction, Havve following closely.  By the twitch in the robot’s arms, it was clear to Sung that Havve was having difficulty restraining more destructive impulses.  If the two of them could make it out of this meeting with the flotilla Commodore without someone ending up maimed, it was a victory in Sung’s book.  
  
         The security team wound Sung and Havve through the back corners of the ship, avoiding major traffic ways and dashing all hopes of the pair finding their way unassisted.  Up spiral rung cases and around cyclical hallways, Sung understood why the pirates were going through such measures to turn around and confuse them, even if Sung and Havve had back up somewhere, finding them would be a useless endeavor.  Their commitment to the safety of their fellow pirate siblings was tantamount.  
         After a considerable walk, the Jefferies Tubes of hallways opened up into a command post.  In the center of the room was a large, holographic map of the Milkyway sector the flotilla was in--roughly near the lively solar system that Earth had dubbed _Proxima Centauri_.  By the eerie green glow of the suspended pool of living bacteria and algae, the map module was of Vysvian make.  Sung shuttered to think of where the pirates must’ve procured the module from as the people of Vysvaa--the zilbyrgh--were the worst-suited race in the whole Andromeda galaxy for pirates.  They were squishy, they were emotional and very easily damaged, Sung hoped in vain that no one had been terminated in its capture.  
         Around the map module were several reclining chairs that any race could easily find comfort upon, however, the only one that was occupied held a familiar face.  In the command seat, a wild, rockstar mane pluming out from his head and neck sat Commander Meouch, a half-smoked Earth cigar poking from between his furry chops.  With a skinny, deft paw, he reached up to his mouth to ash the cigar in a tray that resembled a warped forty-five RPM record.  
         “ _The interlopers, Commodore.”_ The Elder gekur introduced with a clicking grunt.  
         Meouch cleared his throat, reproducing as best he could--which, with four vocal cords, was a lot easier than what Sung could--the syllables for “ _You’ve done your duty.  Leave us._ ”  
         The gekur almost looked as if it was going to protest the order, but a properly trained gekur would never.  With an affirmative grunt, it turned on one of its feet, growling at the other members of security to flank it on its way out.  Sung remained still until the click of its claws and its accompaniment were silent behind the door.  
         “Suh dude.” The Commodore smirked.  
         Sung grinned at the traditional greeting, “Suh, dude.”  
         “This is a surprise.” Meouch purred, grinding out his cigar into his Patsy Cline forty-five.  “What brings you two here?”  
         “You’ve taken up some interesting company, Commander.” Sung commented, striding quickly across the space between them with open arms.  
         “It’s Commodore now, Commodore Meech.” A smile curved his fuzzy chops at the evident confusion on his friend’s face.  “It’s a common name on Ailunthria, and the Groove Crusaders have…  Quite the reputation.”  He shrugged, “But,” he pushed himself to his feet, extending his gangly arms over his friend’s shoulders to pull Sung into a strong hug. “I thought you would be proud of me.” He released Sung’s shoulders and plopped back into his command chair.  Instead of his traditional command blues, he wore something similar to the mandated black uniforms all gekur were required to wear by intergalactic law.  Perhaps it was a show of solidarity after the recent extermination order that had been blocked in the Milkyway.  
         “Taking up arms with space nazis?” Sung spoke with a light-hearted tone.  
         Meouch growled under his breath “That’s a dangerous stereotype and you know it.”  
         “You’re very right…  My apologies.” Sung corrected himself, “I’m less concerned with your comradery with the gekur, and more concerned that you’re back to pirating.”  
         “Have _you_ ever tried it?  It’s very liberating.” Meouch grinned, showing off his shiny, white fangs.  
         Sung shrugged, “As long as you’re not in the slave trade--or the trade of destroying planets--I cannot complain too much…”  That was sort of a lie.  
         “People aren’t cargo, mate.” Meouch quoted solemnly, “You’ll at least be proud to know that we’ve not killed anyone in at least…”  Meouch wiggled the claws on his fingers to count, “Almost a whole cycle.”  
         “And…  How long have you been flotilla Commodore?”  
         “About four cycles…”  Meouch shrugged, “You can’t win all the time.” He purred to himself, “It’s better than our usual trend which was one or two every few rotations.”  
         “It’s nice to know I rubbed off you a little in our time together.”  Sung nodded, noting the sudden somberness that settled between them.  
         “Why are you here?” Meouch cut to the chase.  
         “Lord Phobos has been missing…  I was hoping you’ve seen our friend.” Sung relayed, looking back to Havve, as the robot stuck a hand into the suspension pool of the holo-map.  “I wouldn’t suspect him to look for you, but you know just about everyone there is to know out this way and his kind are very rare.”  
         “Missing?  Doc, we went our separate ways, I doubt Phobos is avoiding you on purpose.” Meouch stood, pacing around the map module.  
         “No, Phobos has been our traveling companion for the last cycle, we met up again at the beginning of the Milkyway extermination order.”  Sung explained, “Bryrrna contacted us for potential aid in the situation.”   
         Meouch growled again, his tail flicking back and forth, “Well, whether it was you or not that helped block the order, I’m grateful.  I was in a difficult position and there was not much I could do but gather gekur to my ships.” Pausing for a second of thought, he added “There was a Terran I spoke with…  Asking for information, but I don’t know what good it really did.”  It certainly explained the overwhelming population of gekur aboard. “Before you ask, most of them are civilians and just live on board.  They’re afraid to return to the planets that wanted them dead.”  
         “I understand.  After the…  Debacle settled, we spent some time Groove Crusading the galaxy, eventually though, Phobos left, but remained in contact…  Until three Earth weeks ago.  There has been no contact, not even a postcard.” Sung threw in a little humor that, truthfully, was not felt.  
         “I’m sure Phobos is fine.  What makes you think otherwise?”  
         “Phobos has been searching for others Sepianids that might be strewn throughout the galaxy, so far…  There have been none.” Sung expounded, sitting on the edge of the map module while Meouch paced around to clap Havve gently on the shoulder in greeting.  The robot pivoted to look at him, staring into his eyes silently.  
         “Havve says ‘Damn, you’re not dead yet’.” Sung chuckled, the lights of the bright orange pylon flashing red.  
         “Nope, not yet.  That’s your job.” Meouch stepped away from Havve, continuing his slow trek around the map.  “I’m…  Not surprised Phobos hasn’t been able to find any others of his kind.  They were somewhat isolated.”  
         “Isolated, but not unfriendly.” Sung reminded as Meouch stepped closer around.  “It’s not a worthless endeavor, not every species is as antisocial as mine.”  
         “Hah, if you’re considered anti-social Doc, I’m a damn misanthrope.” Meouch slung an arm over Sung’s pauldrons leaning on them.  
         “Come with us.” Doctor Sung propositioned.  
         “You’re _not_ being serious right now.” Meouch stood up straight, letting his arms fall to his sides.  “I have responsibilities now.  I can’t just _leave_ this merry cavalcade of idiots.  What will happen to them?”  
         “It’s good that you have an actual sense of duty for once.” Sung reflected with relatively good humor.  There was still sadness present, but Meouch was growing as a person, who could fault him for that?  
         “Something else to give yourself a pat on the back about.” Meouch paced back to his command chair, giving it a long look before lifting his gaze back to Doctor Sung “I can’t this time.  As much as I delighted in Groove Crusading with you, I can’t exactly go against these people that trust me.”  
         “I am just as pained as I am happy that you’ve found a home away from us.” Sung smiled up at him, stepping over and clapping the big Ailunthrian on the shoulder.  
         “Ah,” Meouch waved Sung off, “more like a place to play den mother than home.” he laughed, brushing Sung’s hand from his body, “Look, ah… I don’t know anything about anything, but, I’d say… If you’re looking for planets to go to to find Mr. Cuttlefish Face himself, I’d start with Klesum or Cazty.”  
         Sung’s plylon lit up blue as Havve diverted from the map to look at Meouch.  The big cat-man raised a curious brow to Sung, seeking a meaning.  
         “We’ve already been to Klesum, it was where we started.” Sung spoke where Havve could not. “We had heard he was there, but by the time we arrived, he must’ve already jetted off.”  
         “Just as well, you know Cazty takes all kinds.”  Meouch shrugged, “If he’s been into anything illegal or otherwise, you’ll get your answer there.”  
         “I guess that’s our next stop, then…”  Sung frowned, but quickly replaced it with a brilliant smile “Well, my friend, it has been a wonderful time visiting you.” Looking back to Havve, the robot stepped away from the map.  
         “Same to you, but, I got shit to do.”  Plopping back into his command chair, Meouch flipped a switch, croaked a few Gekurick syllables and just like that, Commander Meouch was again Commodore Meech.  The control room filled on all sides surrounding Doctor Sung and Havve with pirates.  By their evident jumpiness, all of them had been waiting nervously some sort of word from their leader.  
         “Captain Snug, it has been a pleasure.  Farewell on your journey with Hulk here.”  Meouch turned his head to regard the Elder gekur as Doctor Sung sighed at the awful joke.  Waiting for Meouch to relay in his Gekurick “ _See to it that our guests have a safe escort from the sector.  They are friends of ours from here on ou_ t.”  
      While seeming surprised, the Elder gekur nodded its big head, tipping his chin back in the end as a show of trusting submission.  It turned its eyes back to Sung and Havve, dropping its weapon with purpose to the sling holster.  What little tension there was left between the visitors and the congregation of pirates evaporated.  Younger gekur and renegade species of the ship likewise lowered theirs, a sense of tentative relaxation in the air.  Sung didn’t know how to feel exactly about being labelled a “friend” of pirates…  Havve just didn’t feel.  
  
         The situation with Meouch, having gone considerably less well than Sung had hoped, left Sung and Havve enroute to the second, if not more unstable hub planet.  Cazty--one of five planets in a unity known as an Industrial Cluster--was usually a planet one went to for less than scrupulous activities.  Much like Tijuana.  
         “Havve, I need you to warm up the burst capacitor.”  Sung communicated, setting a course to be taken to the mustard-yellow planet.  The pylon atop Sung’s being flashed red for a moment, “Thank you.” Sung replied.  With everything settled, a button was pressed, a dial was turned, a wormhole nest was avoided, and the litterbox had been scooped.  Onward to their next destination!  The ship glowed and all but winked out of existence itself.


	2. Episode II:  The Observer

         Phobos didn’t know where he was.  He didn’t  _ care _ where he was either and that was probably why he found himself on what appeared to be a hub planet.  Far off, he heard voices and bodies finding their way past and above others, but he felt no need to join in the noise.  He sat on the grey beach, looking out at the wine-red seas of the planet.  In his lap, he held a white guitar, and he strummed it placidly.   
         Phobos was tired, tired, angry, hungry, and physically as well as emotionally starved.  This quest had been a lonely one, and while the time in the past cycle that he had spent back with Doctor Sung and Havve had been rejuvenating…  The scramble to divert another genocidal disaster in the universe hadn’t been enough.  The Sepianids had been a physically emphatic race, their language had been as much about bodily movement as it had been about vocalizations and light frequencies.  Like with the zilbyrgh people of Vysvaa, language and emotion were fully embodied experiences.  One was their words, was their feelings, and was their actions.  As such, Phobos’ glow had been dim for a long time, and body motions were stiff and mechanical.  He had lost words long ago.  There were no words in the of an obliterated race, never to be seen again in the universe.  Having met a being so old that it surpassed the age of the Milkyway, or Andromeda, or Triangulum galaxies, alone had given him the hope necessary to keep searching.  However, much time had passed since then, and while the humans said that hope died last, Phobos was feeling that it was time.  The Old Ones were wiser than all their pet galaxies or species, and if one had said Phobos could yet find family in them, it was worth trying.  It was possible for Old Ones to be wrong.  They were curators and caretakers, not gods.   
         Phobos’ fingers fell from the beloved guitar, maybe it was time to let the light die and to be stillness.  The burden of being completely alone in the universe was not something the young prince had been made for.  His oral and facial arms curling in on themselves, Phobos sat the white guitar aside, grabbing his protective bronze-colored helmet.  In one swift, but hardly graceful motion, Phobos’ man facial arms settled into their silent mouthpiece and the visor blocked out distracting, polarized light from his eyes.  It was time to go; taking a step, a sudden feeling bloomed in the center of Phobos’ body.  The brunt of the feeling took Phobos’ legs out from under him.  His hands clenched into the gray, sharp stones that made up the beach while his chest throbbed.  With his legs smoothly bent together, the Sepianid gasped around his mask, searching for anything that could be the cause of this feeling.  The feeling was not entirely foreign, though Phobos was sure that it had never been felt before with such intensity.  It was familiar, comforting, like being told “awesome job!” by a close friend, it was…  _ Validating _ .  To what this emotion was owed, Phobos looked about, frantic and every inch of his quivering body asking “Who is there?!”   
         “Forgive me…”  A soft, lilting voice came from all around, “I didn’t mean to overcome you like that.  I have not seen your species in a long time and I was excited to see you.”  The voice was disembodied, Phobos quickly realized, a self nowhere in view.   
         “Who are you?”  The curves of Phobos’ body asked.   
         “I am not a danger to you, but why do you not speak?” It asked.   
         “I asked you a question first.” Phobos’ sudden upward motion on the beach rebutted.   
         “I don’t have a designation in the same way most others do.  I fancy that I am an observer, so you might call me The Observer.”  The voice spoke with a calmness that quelled Phobos’ anxieties, but didn’t dispel his hesitancy.   
         Phobos shrugged, “okay.”  Uncurling his body into relative straightness, he looked about “where are you?”   
         “We are a non-corporeal race.  When we do not take a host.  We survive as desires and feelings.  Sometimes as light, but it’s all up in the air for us.”   
         “Was that a pun?” The tip of Phobos’ unamused face assumed.   
         “No pun intended,” The person assured, “I do find puns entertaining though.”   
         Phobos would’ve rolled his eyes, but he didn’t need to communicate his annoyance too directly.  Standing, Phobos made to leave, but the feeling of validation continued to throb inside, slowing his trek away from this strange, alien being.   
         “Lord Phobos, if I may…”  The alien began again, its own hesitancy worming its way into the air.   
         Phobos stopped, turning to look back in the direction he had come from.  He raised a hand “you know my name.  Have you been following me?”   
         “No, I found you just now.  You’re fascinating to observe.”   
         “Is that all you do?  Observe?”  Phobos turned his body back towards where he assumed the being to “be”.   
         “Hereto, yes…  I am an observer of many and much.  I don’t speak to others often, but…  Your race has long been my favorite to listen to.  Your planet is silent, and you still have not spoken to me…  I only wish to know what happened.”   
         Phobos’ shoulders slumped, “if you are incorporeal, the time of space shouldn’t matter to you.  Why not simply look for yourself?”   
         “I always like to ask permission first.  It is not my history.  It is yours.”  The Observer explained.   
         “How polite.”  Phobos waved The Observer on, continuing back towards his space pod, leaving the white guitar in the gray shale sand.  The feeling that had overtaken him minutes before was gone, the emptiness was left.  There was nowhere yet to go.  As his hand graced the bulkhead of his pod, the feeling returned.   
         “Lord Phobos… You wish to escape all of this….  Right?” The Observer asked.   
         “That was fast.” The pop of Phobos’ hip said.   
         “As you said, without a body anchored to a space in time, the length of time it takes me to watch the destruction of an entire people matters little to me…”  Though it was difficult for Phobos to say that The Observer had a “tone of voice,” he felt the bitter venom of anger against his skin.   
         “What interest do you have in me?” Phobos remained by his ship, leaning the forehead of his helmet to the cold, unerring metal.   
         “One who is alone in the universe to another.” The Observer plied, once more moving to ask “Do you want a way to escape what has been done to you?”   
         “You could say that, yes.” The movements of Phobos’ tired hands informed, though, with hesitant twitches in their fingers.   
         “What would you say if I could take this all away?”   
         “I would say you’re full of shit.” Phobos turned to lean his indolent, curved back on the hull of his ship; leaving was feeling like less of a pressing prospect.   
         “Come with me, then.”   
         Phobos pressed his whole body backwards against the scarred hull of his ship, skin flashing patterns of surprise and awe as a rift in reality’s fabric tore its way into being.  Beyond the shimmering edges of existence was something new, something dark that Phobos had never known…  An intense yearning filled the space within him.  Could it always be this way?  Would this finally end his suffering?   
         Looking to his feet and then to the white guitar in the sand, he stepped away from his ship, bending to pick up the beloved instrument.  Aching for something to take away the pain he had known for so long, Phobos gripped his guitar tight and stepped into the darkness.


	3. Episode III:  Lost and Found

         Cazty was one of the few planets in the Milkyway that didn’t require clearance to land upon.  It was a three rotation jaunt to the planet, Sung and Havve having met up with Meouch’s flotilla in the Orion Arm, and Cazty was located in the Perseus Arm.  Itching to get out of the small craft, Sung and Havve carefully guided the ship in its descent to the surface.  It wasn’t the prettiest planet under its twin suns, but there were man things that called it home.  Putting out the landing gear, Sung let the  _ Vangelis _ “plop” right down onto the black sands of a beach.  Off in the distance, a pair of interested gekur lifted their red heads from the bottle they were sharing, but quickly lost interest.   
         Stepping out onto the relatively warm sand, Doctor Sung shivered.  It didn’t matter that this planet was rotating around two stars, it was almost too far away from them to be habitable.  The ice caps of Cazty were massive and the sulphuric makeup of the atmosphere reflected a good deal of warming light.  In fact, it was speculated that the whole planet would go snowball if the solution wasn’t found in coming cycles.  Perhaps the Torbs of the Andromeda galaxy could, at the very least, teach the people how to function in frozen climates.   
         “Havve!  I need a coat!”  Sung called into the ship.  The desired object came swiftly…  Into Sung’s pylon, knocking the short being back a few steps.  “Thanks!”  Sung was grinning from ear to ear as usual.  The grin remained as the coat was donned and Havve exited the ship, coming to stand at Sung’s side.  “Right, time to start searching.”   
  
         The nearby marketplace Sung and Havve found themselves submerged in was a lively place.  Beings from all corners of the tri-galaxy area bustled between buildings and above the crowds.  Those with wings or floatation sacs took to the sky to see wares on levitating platforms, others of smaller species had shops set-up on the counters of other shops.  It never grew old to see the crushes of life the galaxies were bursting forth with.  Though, with their arrival, Sung didn’t have the faintest idea of where to start.  This open-air market was the most popular one on the surface and if there was something that was needed, one could usually bet that it could be found here.  Even Earth artifacts could be located with enough searching, though the planet was very strict on imports and exports.   
         “I say we both do some recon of the area.”  Sung suggested, looking to Havve’s unfeeling deadpan.  “Come on, don’t you want to find Lord Phobos?”   
         Havve stared.   
         “Look, you can’t just sit there and not talk to me, what are you looking at?”   
         Havve reached up to the auditory processors of Sung’s pylon, gripping the protrusions and twisting.  Sung, more or less forced to go with the movement or risk detachment, about faced with the will of Havve’s supple, pink hands.   
         “Suh dude!” Meouch grinned down to about where Sung’s eyes would have been, three furry fingers held up in a jostling gesture of greeting.  His bass was slung across his back as one might carry a formidable sword.   
         “Ah! Commander!  I had almost given up on you!” Sung jumped into the air high enough to wrap joyful arms and legs around the gangly Ailunthrian.   
         “Whoa-whoa!” Meouch stumbled back, nearly colliding with a pair of Solgirian females who hissed at them and flared their scaly spines.  Not wanting to smash his bass, or supplies, Meouch pitched back forward, clutching to Doctor Sung and tail thrashing in the air as he struggled to find his footing.  The last thing he wanted to do was anger the aggressive--and destructive--females of the reptile-like race.  Finally spreading his legs into a wide stance, he huffed “Great to be back, Doc.”   
         “What about all those responsibilities, Meouch?” Sung slyly intoned, dropping back to the black gravel below.   
         “I thought about them and said ‘nah bruh’.”  Meouch reached up to stroke over the “beard” section of his mane.   
         “Are you a wanted pirate again?” Sung questioned, suddenly not knowing if the surface of Cazty was riskier than originally assumed.   
         “No, I’m on shore leave.” Meouch proudly puffed up his chest, “8-6-7-5-3-0-9 is in charge while I’m gone!”  Meouch narrowly ducked a heavy swing of Havve’s fist, skittering on the ground around to the other side of Sung before standing up again.  Still in the midst of heavy guffaws, Meouch teased “I knew you’d appreciate that joke, Hogan.”   
         Meanwhile, Sung’s pylon continuously flashed red and orange, “You designated the Elder gekur, didn’t you?”  Sung assumed, equally unamused as Havve, though better at self restraint.   
         “Yeah, I get a real kick out of calling it to my office!” Meouch continued laughing, missing several other violent attempts on Havve’s part to discipline him. “You’ve not hit me yet, Tin Can Man!” The Commander danced around the murderous robot until Sung decided to end all this tomfoolery.  Faster than the eye could see, Sung grabbed Havve’s fist in mid-punch.   
         “Remember, my bro…  Don’t hit the kitty.”  Sung impressed, pylon once more flashing red.  “Well, that’s not very nice!” Sung frowned, staring Havve down until the robot eventually looked away.  The dangerous fist fell to Havve’s side and that was that.  “All right…  If you both are done pussyfooting around--”   
         “Haha.” Meouch patted his soft stomach under his command blues.   
         “Fooling around…  We need to start our search…  I’ll make sure we all have photos of Phobos’ pod, but I’m thinking if anyone has seen him, it’s going to be someone who is either a music dealer, or a slave trader.”   
         Meouch gritted his teeth, “I’ll look for the music dealers, I know quite a few on planet.”   
         Sung turned a megawatt grin to him “Perfect!  Let’s start there!”   
***   
         Phobos decided that the space he had occupied in the past two weeks since meeting The Observer would have been called a “pocket universe” by Doctor Sung.  It was neither warm nor cold, dry nor wet.  There wasn’t much to see, but he found himself infinitely intrigued with his surroundings.  The space was  _ comfortable _ , like wearing a sweater in winter or being held in the arms of a friend.  He floated in positive bliss, there was no hunger, there was no exhaustion or discomfort just a constant awareness of personal care.   
         Phobos considered most of his time spent floating here alone.  Over the cycles, Phobos had grown fond of the company of other races.  Doctor Sung was delightful--if not guarded about his own origins--Commander Meouch was…  Grudgingly civil, apologetic after so long, and, most of the time, that was good enough.  Havve…  Phobos didn’t have much to say about.  Being that Havve could not speak and communicated either through emphatic drumming or Sung’s uncanny ability to understand menacing silence, Phobos and he did not speak.  Sometimes, just someone to spend hours of silence with was good too.  Phobos knew he would gladly die for any of them.  They were, collective and separately, his best friends.   
         Even so, he still needed time to wish that he had found a female to be protected and held by, a female to raise a whole batch of eggs with, a female to impress with his dear friends…  So Phobos had long decided that his being a lone prince had been for the best.  It was better than having to watch her die in the chaos that the smuggled funk had brought to his once beautiful planet.   
         This alone time had been interrupted by a new…  Friend?  Companion?  Phobos was not sure of what to make of The Observer.  He was sure he liked it, but maybe he only said that because The Observer’s gaze filled him with comforting joy.  It was the feeling of acceptance and family…  Phobos longed to feel so whole and untainted; as if something from his life hadn’t utterly shattered his whole self image.   
         While Phobos was never one to look a gift horse in the mouth, he yet found himself questioning the motives of the disembodied consciousness.  There was  _ one _ thing he would never question, nor grow tired off--a pleasant throb lit in his chest, The Observer was looking at him.   
         “My Lord…”  Phobos heard around him in the near void of this strange place that The Observer called home.  At the same time, Phobos felt a stirring of emotion, whether it was just the Gaze that caused it, he couldn’t ascertain.  It was a good feeling though.   
         “Yes, Observer?” Phobos said with his hands.   
         “You have been most melancholy today.”   
         “Why are you so invested in me?” Phobos moved to ask.   
         “You are not the only one prone to loneliness.” They answered as if it should’ve been the most obvious answer in the universe.   
         “Surely there are others of your kind to interact with,” Phobos assumed.   
         “There are, my Lord.  However, our species only meets for romantic overtures and to raise children.”   
         Phobos didn’t even want to think about how non-corporeal beings of entropy reproduced.  It felt like it would’ve been one long headache to even wonder how they decided to amorously advance upon one another when they as a people seemed to distance themselves from each other.   
         “Children are rare for the simple fact that we do not often enjoy the company of our own.  We prefer the wisdom and company of those different than us.”   
         “That seems counterproductive.” Phobos pointed out.   
         “It is necessary for us to mature.  Our children are amalgamations of us, how can we expect wise and thoughtful children if who they are made from have never left their own kind?” The Observer posed for Phobos’ consideration.   
         “I’ve never met another of you.  It seems your diaspora has been more harmful than helpful.”   
         “We are rare in the universe.  Most of us millennia old.”   
         A curious flash lit up over Phobos’ body “Do you outlive the Old Ones?”   
         “No one outlives the Old Ones.”   
         There was logic in that, “What galaxy are you from?”   
         “Andromeda.”  The Observer almost seemed to be annoyed with playing twenty questions about themself, “We have no home planet anymore.  Our primary star has already consumed it and formed a black hole.  Before even I was created.”   
         “Are you an Old One?”   
         “An understandable question, but no.  I had mothers and my race was germinated by the Old One of entropy.”   
         “You are made in their image.” This wasn’t a question.   
         “Perhaps.  We don’t know.  We don’t care.  Our Old One has not been around this section of the universe since before we left our planet for the void.”   
         Speaking of the void, if Phobos had to wait a thousand cycles to meet the Old One of void again, it would be too soon.  They--the Old One Polybius--delighted in masquerading as a human, quietly watching as the inhabitants of Earth destroyed themselves for their entertainment.  While many would argue that the Old One wasn’t evil, Phobos found their inaction an evil in itself.   
         “Is there anything I can do for you?” The Observer interrupted Phobos’ reveries.   
         “No…” He signed, “But…  Just stay with me.”   
         “I can definitely do that.”


	4. Episode IV:  Trail of a Dope Fiend

         With the aid of Commander Meouch, Havve and Sung found navigating Cazty easier than expected.  Shuffling between tents and by groups of aliens whom had hidden faces selling vials of a viscous liquid, Meouch explained “We stop here frequently.”  
         “Do you deal in the _Hammu_ trade?” Sung assumed, nearly outpacing Meouch in spite of the Alunthrian’s longer legs.  
         “Of all the illegal things we do, no.  I don’t want to trust a bunch of pirates with civilians on board with such sensitive cargo… The last thing we need is an addiction on board.” Meouch explained, his ears swiveling back and forth for the correct sounds.  “One of my fellow music smugglers has a pop-up this way.”  
         “Why stop by Cazty so often if it’s not to pick up something that lucrative?” Doctor Sung asked, also putting a--more proverbial--ear out for anything that sounded musical in nature.  
         “This place is rife with slave traders.” Meouch grunted, motioning with a few fingers to follow him into a very narrow space between shops.  “What better place to pick up new recruits than to beat the shit out of a slave owner, right?”  
         For a second, Sung paused, Havve not noticing the immediate stop and hence colliding with Sung’s back.  The pylon atop Sung’s head flashed red, but Sung didn’t move, “That seems…  Very manipulative of you.”  
         “Eh, maybe, but we pay them, give them as many meals as they want, a place to rest and a family to befriend.  They can unenlist at any time.   _We_ don’t force anything on them.” Meouch pointed out, “See it as you like, but it’s better than bondage.”  
         “I suppose…” Sung, grudgingly, had to agree.  Letting out a sigh, Sung and Havve continued following Meouch, the unmistakable twang of guitar strings floating above the bustle of the surrounding crowds.  “It’s so much easier to find Earth wares these days.”  
         “Oh, yeah, a fact I’m not the least bit sore about.” Meouch chuckled, “All the--appropriate, of course--amounts of funk so easily attainable now!”  
         The three wriggling their way back into the mainstream of the crowd, Meouch had them cut across several aisles of stands to easily find a free-standing hut with sloppy lettering declaring it “Isleng’s Musical Mysteries”.  Of course, the alliteration worked far better in terran English than it did in Cluster Standard.  
         “Sweet! Exactly who I was looking for!”  Beckoning Sung and Havve to both follow him inside, Meouch shoved the heavy, canvas-like flaps out of their way, “Isleng!” He called, throwing his arms outwards--his time spent on Earth was painfully evident to just about everyone, as possibly only terrans engaged in the affectionate action known as “hugging”.  
         A Solgirian male--his small size and dull adornments marking him as such--looked up from what appeared to be a box of records from Earth.  At first, he didn’t seem all too happy by the way his jaw clenched to show his teeth, but a few moments for recognition passed and he relaxed, “Ooooh, Commander Meouch.” He coyly greeted, sinuous tail flicking to and fro.  “ _I thought you were done with the whole… Groove Crusading thing_.”  Needless to say, Sung went to say something adequately corny, but found a soft, human hand clamped down over the necessary mouth-hole to do that.  Havve held fast, Meouch needed to handle this.  
         Meouch laughed, “ _And I had thought that you were done being a rude sack of shit_!” Showing off his teeth under the guise of a smile, Meouch stared down the smaller being.  
         “ _My apologies_.” Isleng glanced to Sung and Havve, but made no further greeting, it was rude to invite one’s self to an introduction to close friends and family of business associates.  “ _If you’re looking for more Parliament, I just got a fresh stack of LPs delivered last week_.”  
         “ _Oh, no, not looking for shit I already have_.” Meouch strode strongly over to the lizard man, hands braced on his hips.  “ _I’m looking for something rare, something you’ve probably only seen once…  A Sepianid_.”  
         For a second, there was a flash of recognition in Isleng’s yellow eyes, “ _It’s certainly something I would’ve seen,_ had _I seen it_.”  
         “Doc…”  Meouch flopped his head back to his friend.  
         Sung, released from Havve’s supple hands, declared “He knows.”  
         “That’s what I thought.” Meouch turned a squinty, sly smile back to Isleng.  “Don’t lie to Doc, he always knows.”  
         “ _Fine,_ ” Isleng snorted, leaning a paw against a table of instrument parts haphazardly strewn amongst one another.  Any proper musician would never have done such a thing, and frankly, it disgusted _all_ of the Groove Crusaders. “ _I’ve seen one.  He needed a guitar string._ ”  
         “ _What kind_?” Sung piped in before Havve’s hands rapidly silenced the nonsense once more.  
         “ _He needed a g-string_.” It would never get old hearing the smattering of Earth words breaking into more farfetched tongues.  Either way, Sung laughed behind Havve’s nimble hands.  
           “Well, that clues us into how _he’s_ doing.” Meouch commented to the pair behind him with a shrug, but, returning his attention back to Isleng.  “ _Okay, my man, that was important information. Now, uh, do you know where he went_ after _he left here?_ ”  
         Isleng squared his shoulders, tipping his nose to the ground to bare the hard surface of his forehead and eyebrow ridges, “ _You’ve disrupted my day enough.  Be happy with what I told you_.   _I have nothing more to share_.”  
         Meouch sighed, looking back to Doctor Sung for help, “Survey says?”  
         Havve’s hands popped off Sung’s mouth “He’s lying.”  
         The grit of frustration in his voice, Meouch warned “ _You don’t want to play this game with me.  You won’t win._ ”  
         Isleng shrugged off what he considered to be a petty threat, “ _As if the noble Groove Crusaders would beat up a lowly merchant such as myself_.”  However, he quickly wished he could withdraw his words as Havve and Meouch shared a look.  “ _Uh…_ ”  
         “Whoa, hey now, guys!” Doctor Sung, while following with Havve’s urging to leave the hut, spluttered “No one is dying today!”  
         “Never said someone was, Doc.” Meouch clutched his punching fist in his other hand.  “Just focus on the weather, eh?”  
         As the Groove Crusaders were perpetually broke and the team today did not have the time often involved in Doctor Sung’s schmoozing abilities, Sung supposed this was the only option.  So, standing square and looking out down the aisle Isleng’s shop was situation in, Sung commented “Such a lovely day.”  
  
         While Doctor Sung deflected interested parties from all the noise inside, Meouch had his fair way with the less powerful Solgirian.  Havve, more keen to kill rather than simply maim, stood charge should Isleng choose to speak while Meouch’s fists were doing most of the “talking”.  Isleng writhed underneath the bigcat on top of him, his tympanic membrane bleeding to black splotches on the unyielding ground.  Meouch continued to smile, tail waggling with excitement as Havve looked on with a critical eye.  If _Havve_ was in charge of this interrogation, peeling off eye ridge nubs would’ve happened first.  
         “ _C’mon Sleng-y boy_!” Meouch prodded as the less than scrupulous Solgirian shuddered on the ground “ _Just got to tell me where the Sepianid went.  It’s that easy._ ”  
         A quiet whimper broke from Isleng on the ground “ _Hrrik’s Hammu House_.” He eventually coughed, raising a claw to his badly damaged ear.  
         “Fuck, seriously?” Meouch looked up to Havve “Never pegged the guy for a hallucinogens lover.”  
         Meanwhile, Havve popped a hip as if to say “You _never_ thought about it?”  However, Meouch was not Sung or Phobos and so, had no clue to Havve’s snarky remark.  
         “C’mon, we have to tell Doc.”  Meouch stood, leaving Isleng to metaphorically lick his wounds.  Stepping out of the slightly warmer tent to be next to Sung, Meouch opened his mouth to speak, but found Sung’s mouth faster.  
         “ _Hammu_ , huh?” Sung asked, turning to put attention on Meouch.  “I knew he had his downswings…”  
         “He’s always so caught up in himself, so… Maybe I shouldn’t be so surprised as I am.” Meouch admitted, seeing Sung’s lights turn yellow.  
         “Havve’s right, if we were as lonely as him, we might each indulge in time to time.” Sung let out a breath, “Well, Meouch, would you know the way?”  
         “Time to go find our _Hammu_ fiend baby.” Meouch stalked off in the direction of the popular establishment Isleng had named, unsure of what they would all find there.  
  
         The _Hammu_ “den,” as Meouch would have referred to it, was filled with mostly residents of the Industrial Cluster.  Across reclining couches, plush, woven rugs of Taeotquin make and the bare, stone-hewn floor were the frequent recreationists of _Hammu_.  It was dark, very warm in contrast to the bone-chilling cold of the surface and reeked with the stench of the unwashed.  All three of the Groove Crusaders present had very little idea of where to begin.  There was no telling just who had been present at the time of Phobos’ bender or even if any of those people would be coherent enough to speak of it.  
         Sung’s pylon momentarily lit up blue and Sung answered “Let’s just see if we can even find anyone that’s able to talk first” in Havve’s direction.  Though, instead of getting straight to work, Sung asked Meouch “Know much about how to tell if someone can talk like this?”  
         Meouch stifled a snort at the innocent Doctor’s curiosity and said “By talking to them.”  He stepped away from the other two and began to gingerly step around, between and over the people present.  As lazy as the drug made a body feel, the network of rooms hardly lacked spectacle.  
         Three centipede-like kriranrk tangled with one another in a ball of hundreds of legs and grinding, clicking carapaces; to Sung’s immediate left lay a large Solgirian female with a great scar across her scaly visage, taking in slow, deliberate breaths as her milky, useless eyes fixed on a non-existent point in space; in a lone spot of sunlight fluttered a ‘quin, the undulating “petals” of their chrysanthemum-similar body soaking in the nourishment of light. On the tips of the ‘quin’s digits congealed the oil of _Hammu_ , able to be absorbed through the skin as the Taeotquin native lacked a digestive system.  Sung counted at least a dozen of each predominant race from the Industrial Cluster right away, all except for the largely unfeeling--and some would say dull--Lodorian people.  
         Sung and Havve followed Meouch’s example, picking and poking around at the masses of lethargic bodies.  After some largely unhelpful questioning, they located the owner of the den, though, they were certainly the last species Sung would ever have expected to run the place.  The help of the recreationists lead Sung and Havve to an Irapraxian kriranrk just stirring from drug-induced slumber.  Sung jumped at the chance for a possible conversation, “ _Breathing easy to you_.” Sung greeted in the very palatable language of this Cluster’s standard tongue.  
         A disdainful grinding noise came from the sentient plant species, clearly they had no interest in pleasantries or speaking with Sung.  While Sung tried to never get on the last good nerve of any of the many wonderful peoples of the universe, just this once, Sung pressed forward “ _I have some questions and I was wondering if you might be able to help me._ ”  
         “ _Can’t you see I’m trying to sleep_?” The grumpy kriranrk “stood” up, carapace slats sliding smoothly over one another as their body naturally curved in a sinuous “S” shape.  With their ten, large eyes directed at Sung, they spoke again “ _Why try getting information from any deadbeat in here, anyway_?”  
         “ _My siblings and I believe that another of our family was present here not that long ago.  We are seeking information._ ” Sung explained, tone genuine.  
         The kriranrk put on a show of looking Sung’s body up and down from hightop kick to safety orange pylon, “ _Terrans, especially ones as strange as you are uncommon, I would remember such a thing._ ”  
         Though understanding of the confusion, Doctor Sung rushed to correct “ _I-I’m not a terran.  I’m not looking for a terran either, but you would probably notice my sibling of you saw them._ ”  
         “ _You look terran enough to me._ ” They asserted anyway.  
         Doctor Sung put a hand to the shining, prismatic core “ _Because of him I am terran, but Earth is not where I am from.  Can you help me or not_?”  
         “ _Sure are snippy like a terran_.” The Den owner continued to prod, “ _If who you’re looking for isn’t terran, what am I looking for_?”  
         Unaffected by the unfriendly attitude kriranrk tended to exhibit towards those not of their direct family, Sung grinned heartily when they moved on “ _A Sepianid.  Not much shorter than me.  The only one_.”  
         The kriranrk went still for a time, only moving again to inform “ _As a matter of fact, yes, I did see one.  We did not speak, it’s not my business to know why people come here, only to give them shelter.  Though, if you search the back room, your sibling spent much time there.  They could know more than me if your sibling is chatty_.”  
         That could potentially present a roadblock…  Sung hoped that the empathic abilities of a ‘quin had been some kind of bridge between Phobos and the others in this den.  Very few species in the universe had Sung’s gift of understanding.  Pressing on, Sung conveyed “ _I deeply appreciate your cooperation, which… Which way is the room_?”  
         The kriranrk ground its mouth together in much the same way a garbage disposal worked, this, needless to say, created a very unpleasant sound.  Anyway, Doctor Sung was lead back through the bodies and through rooms.  Catching Havve vigorously shaking a ‘quin to and fro, Sung called “Havve!  You’re making them wilt!”  
         Unceremoniously, Havve dropped the bewildered ‘quin immediately and came to Sung’s side to follow the kriranrk to the back.  While it was unexpected, Sung was wholly pleased to find Meouch already settled back in the small, cramped space with a hodgepodge group of Cluster inhabitants.  Meouch raised a hand “Hey Doc! Guess what!”  
         “They’ve seen Phobos.” Doctor Sung knew.  
         Meouch’s ears drooped and his tail sullenly thwacked against the wood of the bench he was situated on “You _never_ let me surprise you.”  
         Seeing that they were no-longer needed, the kriranrk dismissed themself, leaving the three Groove Crusaders to talk with the beings in relative privacy.  
         “ _So!  While I might_ know _, I don’t really know-know.  Care to elaborate for us_?” Doctor Sung facilitated as a rare Cazty native rippled their golden spines in acquisition.  
         “ _Your friend didn’t speak, but,_ ” the native made a sweeping motion with their fin, “ _we here all understand each other in a way_. _You may ask me my name_.”  
         Given the proper goahead, Sung did so, Meouch listening closely, “ _Ah, you may ask ours as well._ ”  
         “ _Relkem_.” Relkem supplied, spines and fins flanking their small face rippling again once Meouch and Doctor Sung likewise repaid the favor of names when they were asked. “ _Very good.  Your friend is more one of thought than action, I noticed_.”  
         “ _Eh, you’d be surprised what he’s willing to do if he’s upset._ ” Meouch asserted, ruffling his mane back with his fingers.  
         “ _Then you won’t be alarmed when I tell you that he was considering something drastic_.” Relkem rebutted, much to the surprise of the Groove Crusaders, “ _He spent many rotations here with us, a phantom more than anything.  There are rumors that I think he put a lot of stock in._ ”  
         The organ pylon flashed blue, Sung asking for Havve “ _Rumors like what_?”  
         “ _There is a very old planet--out on the edge of the galaxy--where its primary star is preparing to go through its end of life cycle.  The stories say that it sees the most lonely in the universe frequently._ ”  Relkem took in a breath with the sound of a harmonica and let it out with further golden rippling.  
         “ _Is the planet alive_?” Doctor Sung assumed, it didn’t make sense for just any old habitable planet to have a will of its own.  
         “ _No…  It’s just a stop commonly made by those searching for something they long for most.  If the people your friend is seeking are anywhere, it would be there._ ”  
         The three Groove Crusaders looked between one another.  It was a long shot and a rumor at best, but…  It was the only lead that they had on Phobos.  There was a silent agreement among them before Sung moved to ask “ _Do you know the name of this planet_?”  
         Relkem let out a wheezing noise--a laugh--and said what basically amounted to “ _Fuck if I know_.”  
         A wave of exasperation waved over Doctor Sung and Havve and Meouch.  More and more hold ups just piled on by the hour, “ _Do you have any idea what sector of the galaxy it’s supposed to be in_?” Sung pushed, eager to get this on the road.  If they were going to be scouring star charts to find the damn place, any information could help.  
         “ _The outer reaches of the Scutus-Centarus_ _Arm_.” If only the Cazty native realized what sorts of funny names terrans gave the arms of the Milkyway.  Relkem rippled, “ _I do not know if there is much more that I can provide you with_.”  
         “ _No, no, this is more than we could have hoped for._ ” Doctor Sung assured, standing to tug Meouch along, “ _We must go now.  I wish you good tidings and may we meet again_.”  
         “ _Good tidings mean the reuniting of friends._ ” Relkem’s fins and spines shimmered politely with the traditional salutation.  
         “Okay, back to _Vangelis_.” Doctor Sung instructed while Havve and Meouch trailed behind.  
         “You have no idea where we’re going do you?” Meouch questioned at the same time that Sung’s lights shifted to purple.  
         “You both have such little faith.” Sung made a “tsk” noise “We’re going to Chameta.  If anywhere will have a star chart of that Arm, it will be the council there.  Please… Try to contain your enthusiasm.”  
         “You do know I’m banned from that city, right?” Meouch nudged Sung’s rock hard bicep through the puffy coat.  “Tends to come with being a pirate…  Generally being a peace disturber and homewrecker isn’t a good thing.”  
         “I’m sure we can work something out with the council after how _wrong_ they were in their _wrongness_ last cycle.”  Sung gave a bitter giggle and the three hastily made off for their ship.  Next stop:  Lodora.  



	5. Episode V:  Library of the Past

         “Beloved…”  The Observer nudged, watching as Phobos flashed pleasant shades of purple and blue in happiness.   
         “What is it?” Phobos asked with the movements of his body.   
         “I am curious about your emotional state.”  The Observer informed, Phobos feeling a presence on his left shoulder.   
         Phobos couldn’t lie, “I feel better than I have in a long time.”   
         “I am happy to hear, only, I worry you need company beyond myself, and something more to occupy your time.”  Admittedly, Phobos found that The Observer was somewhat of a compulsive worrier over his health.  Particularly when it came to whether or not he was bored.   
         Phobos gave an annoyed flick of his wrist, “no, I am perfectly occupied.  You don’t hang around other beings much, do you?”   
         “How could you tell?”  As The Observer spoke, Phobos felt a pulse of fond humor.   
         “For one, you are The Observer, not The Socializer.” Phobos’ body movements were stark and dry in tone.   
         “Sassy, I see.”  The Observer’s tone was yet colored with humor, “You are correct.  Alas, I also am neither The Entertainer, nor The Singer…”  The humor in their tone died for just a moment as if in somber memory, “I fear you are bored.”   
         Phobos’ skin pulsed a calming, violet light, “Don’t worry, boredom is not deadly to my species.”   
         “I am aware, but it’s still a present fear.”  The Observer must have looked away, because the feeling of content acceptance left him again.   
         “What do you do for entertainment?” Phobos’ question was rewarded with the return of feeling.   
         “I observe others.  Yourself my Lord?”   
         “I Rock.” Phobos stated, folding his arms over his chest.   
         “Why do you not sing?”   
         Phobos dropped his arms, “I vowed to never speak again until the one who destroyed my people is dead and gone from this world.”   
         “The Ailunthrian.”  The Observer stated.   
         “Yes.”  Even with The Observer’s validating gaze upon him, Phobos still ached.  His people were gone because of some inconsiderate prick.  No amount of apologies would ever bring them back.  Phobos’ skin roiled with waving light patterns and mottled colors human eyes could never see.  As delicate, and sweet a man as he was, a deep rage was slowly consuming him.  It had been there, only quelled by the sense of friendship he felt for Sung, Havve, Meouch…   
         “My Lord,” Phobos felt the pressure over his shoulder spread over his body, it felt like an embrace.  His polarized cells calmed, his blow dimming and he was level again.  “You said you like to ‘Rock’, would you Rock with me?”   
          Phobos floated his way over to where his guitar hung in the space of the pocket universe.  Grasping it firmly, he brought it to his chest, enjoying all the while the attention and embrace of The Observer.  It was the best feeling he could think of in the absence of the voices of his people.   
         “Do you sing?” Phobos questioned with a motion towards the tentacles around his mouth.   
         “I can.”   
         “Let’s Rock.”   
***   
         Taking a mere few hours to jump between Cazty and Lodora, the Groove Crusaders arrived at the floating quarantine city of Chameta.  The tiny ship sat before the massive, glowing city’s gaze and Meouch flopped his tail against his seat, “Here we are.”   
         “Sending a landing request now.” Sung fiddled a knob and pressed a button, leaning back in the captain’s chair.  “You’ll get some rest soon, Commander. I promise.”   
         “I’d better.” Meouch hissed, drumming his claw-tipped fingers on the flight console.   
         Havve, tired of Meouch’s complaining, flipped all audio sensors off.   
         “I heard that.”   
         As Havve could not hear Meouch, Havve continued to stare down at the bits, bobs, doodads and whirligigs on the control panel.   
         “Smart ass.”   
         “Oh, I would agree with you, Meouch,” Sung added, “but, please consider that he does not  _ have _ an ass.”   
         Meouch giggled to himself.   
  
         After much waiting, pacing in the itty-bitty  _ Vangelis _ , querying, more waiting and form-filling out, the Groove Crusaders came to stand before a group of three Lodorians in an office.  Deciding to save them wait time and form-filling time, Sung had filed two requests initially--one for access to the Lodorian council’s Tower of Records, but also one for Meouch’s passage in Chameta.   
         Surprisingly, it was all going quite well.  One Lodorian--looking sort of like a terran lawyer with its huge head, grey skin and many facial divots--pored over the forms as well as Doctor Sung’s appeal on Meouch’s behalf.  Once the modest stack was passed off to the other two present, the Lodorian said “You present all adequate facts.”  They were not a very inflective race, no matter the language they spoke, terran English was possibly the best language for this, however.  “And while gratitude is not in my emotional repertoire at the moment, I assure you that all other races capable of such an emotion feel it.  There is, however, one rule as I grant you access to our Tower of Records; the Ailunthrian designated ‘Commander Meouch’ may not, at any time, be permitted to be unaccompanied by either designated ‘Doctor Sung’ or ‘Havve Hogan’ while in the Tower.”   
         While Commander Meouch snorted at the mere idea that he needed a  _ babysitter _ of all things…  He also understood that many of the materials within the Tower of Records would fetch a wonderful price.  While Meouch didn’t consider himself a raging kleptomaniac, he could imagine himself stealing plenty if he needed the money.   
         “Agreed.” Doctor Sung nodded, taking the collection of forms to press an oily hand to it, leaving a permanent imprint on the sensitive material.   
  
         While Lodorians were an organized, logical race--they were this to a fault.  Once the (genocidal) grand council okayed the entry into the Tower of Records, Meouch, Doctor Sung and Havve were left in quite a quandary.   
         “Where do we even start?” Meouch queried, the weight of not sleeping the whole way to the floating city bogging him down.  He barely even noticed Havve taking a few tentative steps forward towards the information kiosk.   
         The robot pulled a warm hand over the levitating scroll screen and typed in the Cluster Standard word for “star chart”.  Adding an additional search criteria was also simple as adding the name of the proper Milkyway Arm.  Sung’s lights changed from white to yellow.   
         “Over 20,000 entries.” Sung despaired at the news.  “There’s no telling exactly what it’s classified under either.  If it’s from  _ before _ the establishment of the Cluster or after--if it is before, which planet would have it?”  Then there were all the other things that would exacerbate this process.  What was the first word on the chart?  What was the second word?  Were there words at all on the chart?   
         Havve typed a few more symbols, catching Sung’s attention.   
         “I guess antiquities would be the best place to start.” The Doctor admitted.   
         “You two are fuckin’ weird.” Meouch sighed, waiting for Havve to lead the way to the correct section of the tower.   
         “It should be comforting for you to know, Commander, that Havve finds you difficult to reconcile with as well.” Doctor Sung informed, genial as usual.   
         “Considering that you are always on the same wavelength, do you feel the same?” Meouch, tired and grumpy, sounded as petulant as an insulted child.   
         “You are,” Sung began, following Havve up a spiral of stairs “ornery at times, but we are two different people, Commander.  It’s expected that we will have our disagreements.”  Well, that was far more diplomatic than what Meouch was expecting.   
         “You and Havve--”   
         “I would prefer to not speak on Havve just yet.” Sung cut him off, “Our bellicose brother is  conversation for another time.”   
         “Hopefully soon.” Meouch grumped, “I had hoped after so long that you’d finally talk about it.”   
         “There is much I wished to discuss with you as well.  If you wish to share.”  Stepping out of the spiral onto a floor, the Groove Crusaders continued their trek towards antiquities.   
         “Well, depending upon what it is, I might need you to grease my  _ pawlm _ here, I’ll need information for information, you see.” Meouch chuckled under his breath as if he had somehow backed Doctor Sung into a proverbial corner.   
         “You said that during the extermination order last cycle, that you gave information to a terran.” Sung brought up, aware of the way Commander Meouch’s browline raised.   
         “Yes…  I did…” Meouch cautiously confirmed.   
         “And that you collected as many gekur to your care as possible during that time?”   
         “What are you wanting to ask, Doc?” Meouch pushed the idiot to get to the point.   
         “Did you do it out of guilt?”   
         Meouch was silent at first, aware that Doctor Sung would  _ know _ if he lied or even had thoughts of being ingenuine,  “Maybe…  At first.” He admitted under his breath, “It would have been so easy to say that it wasn’t my problem.  But, I…  It wouldn’t have been right to stand back while a whole race of people burned.”  His eyes slumped to the floor, unable to rise from the sterile tile, “I’d already done that before.  If I just stood back and did  _ nothing _ , it would’ve been as much my fault as the council’s.”   
         “So, more a sense of duty, Commander?” Sung gently supposed, raising a hand to stroke Meouch’s back.   
         “Perhaps yes, but also…  Maybe, selfishly, to prove that I could get something  _ right, _ for once.”   
         At the same time, the group arrived in the antiquities chamber.  Meouch looked up from the floor to the vastness of all the records at their disposal and all members present who could breathe let out a collective sigh of “so much work to do”.   



	6. Episode VI:  A Window to Yesterday

         As fulfilling as resting with The Observer was, Phobos felt his mind wandering.  He wanted nothing for here in the pocket universe of The Observer’s tender care.  How long had he even been here?  While weeks to, perhaps, an Earth month seemed likely, there was nothing to mark the passage of time.  There were other things he could use to count his time here, but it seemed frivolous to do so.  When he was hungry, The Observer collected food, when he was tired, he slept, when he needed emotional stimulation or touch, The Observer readily provided that as well.  All this time, The Observer remained fond in Phobos’ care and sought new ways to entertain him.  The Observer showed the young Sepianid personal memories from throughout the Cosmos; from the births of new species, to the dawns of civilizations, Phobos had come to respect that,  _ yes _ , The Observer was  _ old _ .  They had much to teach him, but still…  Phobos missed the companionship of Doctor Sung, of Havve, and even his long-estranged brother Meouch.   
         “Dear,” The Observer began, having long resorted to referring to him by pet names, “you seem melancholy today.”   
         “Do you know if I can show you my memories?” Phobos asked in hand motions and bands of bright color.   
         “Do you have something you wish to share?” The Observer returned with a question of their own.  The distinct sound of excitement filled their voice, and it was hard for Phobos to resist a fond pulse of light over his skin.   
         “Yes.” Phobos admitted with a nod of his head.   
         “Then please, focus on a memory, a vivid one.  I will do my best to bring it out here.”   
         Phobos wasn’t entirely sure if he understood, but it was easy enough to remember the first time he saw Doctor Sung.   
  
_ A little known fact about Sepianids is that they are able to see even before they hatch.  The squishy eggs that resembled marbles were clear as glass with tiny embryos ensconced inside.  Phobos remembered well his time in the soft warmth of his egg.  Whirling in the heated tank with his fellow siblings--of whom, only he would hatch--he saw, for the first time, a joyous smile.  While, at the time, Phobos had not known this to be a positive action, nor did he know the hand pressed to the wall of the glass meant excitement, he still felt a stir of emotion. _ __   
__ “A strange terran.” The Observer commented through the memory.  Phobos shrugged off the commentary without further thought and continued on.   
_ “Many blessings to your brood!  I hope many reach fruition!”  The yellow, black and orange visitor bid the royal pair of Sepianids.  The smile was unwavering, even as the towering, many-armed female Sepianid reached a limb to grace the visitor’s right pauldron. _ __   
_          “It is always a pleasure to host you, Doctor Sung.  You are taller than I remember.” The female--Phobos’ mother Polemos--fondly greeted.  Though Phobos saw hesitation in his father--Deimos--he said nothing to contradict his much larger Queen. _ __   
_          “Oh!  Yes!  I’ve been growing!” Doctor Sung admitted--lied--to the mass of tentacles and eyes. _ __   
_          “As much as we appreciate your hopefulness,” Deimos interceded, striding to the edge of the holding tank “We have a single egg that seems capable of hatching.” _ __   
_          For just a second, Doctor Sung’s smile faltered, “It pains me to hear that.” A moment of silence passed, “Would it happen to be that large one?” Sung asked, pointing to Phobos’ egg as he whizzed by in the current of the tank’s circulation. _ __   
_          “Yes,” Polemos confirmed, laying a soft arm on Deimos’ back “We fear he could be the last in our line.” _ __   
_          “Are things so…  Unstable here?” Sung enquired as Deimos gently plucked Phobos’ egg from the warm water; the softball-sized container jiggled like gelatine in the palms of Deimos’ hands.  Phobos stared up at his father’s facial arms with huge eyes, W-shaped pupils expanding as the adult’s skin lit up with adoration. _ __   
_          “We fear that all isn’t well.” Polemos expounded, “We as a people are heading towards a time of great uncertainty…  The trouble is, we do not know what will be the cause of this hurdle.” _ __   
_          “You have many friends in the universe…  Why not ask for aid?”  Sung posed, taking a second to wave at the egg and grin.  Phobos long wondered how twenty-plus cycles had passed and Sung still managed to look unchanged. _ __   
_          “That is not the problem.” Deimos answered for his Queen.  He let his son’s egg drop back into the calm whirl of salinated water. _ __   
_          “The problem is, how can you ask for something when you don’t even know what the question is?” Polemos corrected as she put two tentacles on Deimos and Sung, “Enough troubling talk around the brood.  I don’t want to upset him.” _ __   
_          “Oh? So you have a little prince, then?” Sung readily took the change of subject towards happier things, “Does he have a name yet?” _ __   
_          “We call him Phobos.” Deimos responded with pride. _ __   
_          “Aw, that’s a wonderful name!” Sung and the two adult Sepianids exited the chamber, leaving Phobos to look about at nothing once again. _ __   
__   
__ “Your people have a wonderful capacity for memory.” The Observer observed with some amusement.   
         “There are those with greater.” Phobos pointed out.   
         “This…  Doctor Sung…  The terran…  Is he the same Doctor Sung who convinced you to spare the Ailunthrian?”   
         Without hesitation or shame, Phobos answered “Yes.”   
         “But…  The Ailunthrian  _ destroyed _ your people.”   
         “Doctor Sung is not a fighter.  He prefers resolutions without the need for violence.  He’s very persuasive.”   
         The Observer pressed “The Ailunthrian  _ killed _ your mothers!”   
         “Yes…  That is true.”  While Phobos’ people came in two sexes, he understood what The Observer meant “I forgive him.”   
         “But  _ how _ ?  He stole your future!  The lives of all your people!” Phobos had never seen The Observer so incensed in all the weeks they had been together.   
         “Sometimes you realize--”   
         “Phobos, darling…  This Doctor Sung whom you love so, why would he convince you to leave the Ailunthrian?  Not just  _ leave _ him live, but demand that you be friends?”   
         Phobos remained motionless at first, then, tentatively, answered “Revenge has no merit.  It brings no one back and only creates more death.”   
         “But it’s a particular kind of  _ torture _ to make you stay with him…  He mocks your pain.  You have to stay with a genocidal person at the cost of your  __ voice and your closure.” The Observer’s voice softened, Phobos feeling a tactile brush through his sensitive facial tentacles. “That is no friend.”   
         “Commander Meouch had no idea what his Funk would do to my world.” Phobos excused.   
         “Does that make it okay?” The Observer demanded.  When Phobos had no immediate answer, they asked again “Does it make it okay?”   
         After a long still time, Phobos slumped and shook his head “No.”


	7. Episode VII:  Comfort in Camaraderie

         The sifting between thousands of years of records was a daunting task for a group of three people.  Even if two of the people didn’t require sleep, this didn’t mean they were capable of focusing that long on a task.  Somewhere in the span between their first rotation in the archives and their second, Sung did five sets of fifty burpees, dozens upon dozens of high kicks, around 200 chin-ups and just shy of 800 pushups over piles of star charts.  There might also have been plenty of nunchuk foolishness.  Meouch was happy to sleep for eight hours and Havve was moments away from becoming a shredder.   
         Eventually, antiquities was left behind--the paper-like sheets safe from Havve’s wrath--and Meouch was sent to procure a mid-rotation meal.  Sung hoped that Meouch remembered how Solgirian food was preferred, but knew the pirate was more likely to bring back something hard and bitter that was imported from Cazty.  While on Earth all of the Groove Crusaders enjoyed whiskey and a type of beer called an “IPA” Cazty’s native food took it to a level that only Meouch was brave enough to ingest.   
         “Where to next, Havve?” Sung waited for Havve to compute the question and followed dutifully as a destination was picked.  “Do you think Phobos is in danger?”   
         Havve shrugged, meaning “it doesn’t matter”.   
         “While I’m sure Phobos would take that as flattery, you know he avoids fighting when possible.” An area Phobos and Sung were definitely solid on.   
         Havve shrugged again, this time meaning “you would know if he was dead”.   
         “In danger and dead are two different things.”   
         A third time, Havve shrugged “then he is alive and we will find him”.   
         “Your laid-back attitude is appreciated, if not infinitely frustrating, my friend.”   
         For the last time, Havve shrugged, there was no meaning.   
  
         The rest of the second rotation passed quickly.   
         “We’re never getting out of here.” Meouch whined, hopping up onto a desk covered in charts yet to be skimmed through by Havve’s robotic sensors.  He curled his body up, tucking his hands and feet beneath him to conserve heat in the vaulted room.   
         “We shall soon.” Sung tried to encourage, but even Sung’s words lacked depth of confidence that was, ordinarily, overflowing.  “Sleep for now, Commander.”   
         “I intend to.” Meouch declared, shutting his eyes and letting his tail curl around his body.  Sung never could help but smile seeing the Ailunthrian sleep.  Many times, it was tempting to load many objects on top of him while he slept and take pictures to post on the internet, but Sung resisted.   
         Hours passed, Sung and Havve’s eyes combed over every last scrap of information available to them in the room, save for one stack.  Sung and Havve stood, staring at the pile Meouch had chosen to use for his bed and were faced with a conundrum.   
         “He’s had barely any sleep…  You now he needs that to function.”  Sung pointed out to Havve as the robot approached the reading desk.  “Oh? Have you figured out a solution?”   
         Finding the most prominent “page” of information on the desk, Havve gripped it and gave an almighty yank.   
         “Whoa!” Meouch yelped, his whole self ejected from the table and falling solidly and ungracefully on the hard, stone floor. “Ooooowwww.” He whimpered, laid out. “Oooowwwwwwww.” He continued.   
         “I’m sure you’re fine, Commander.” Sung passively tried to placate, looking around Havve’s arm at the chart the robot held.  The pylon lit up a shining blue “You’re right, I think this might be it.  It’s so archaic though…  What star is that supposed to be?”   
         “Owwwwwwwwww.”   
         “This is missing a lot of stars in that sector actually…  Well, most of the stars there are kind of new.”   
         “Owww!  Owwwwwww!” Meouch continued to point out his disdain at being so rudely woken and deposited on the floor.   
         “You know… I think…  I think I know someone who could make better sense of this map.”   
         “Hey!  I’m in  _ pain _ over here!” Meouch shouted, finally shoving himself to his feet.  Flouncing over to the pair, he stuck his full mane between both of them to get a look at the star chart “Hey, this looks like the one we need!”   
         “Brilliant Commander!  I’m glad you were able to draw that conclusion!” Sung announced with a grin.   
         Meouch squinted down at the Doctor “Was that  _ sarcasm _ ?  From  _ your _ mouth?”   
         “It’s more likely than you think.” Sung took the star chart from Havve, “Okay, we need to give someone a call and we’re on our way!”   
         “Wait!  Geez!  Some of us just woke up!”  Meouch and Havve both had to run after Doctor Sung in the quick flight from the Tower of Records. “We aren’t allowed to take anything from the Tower!” Meouch shouted as Doctor Sung did the exact opposite of that rule.   
         “Fuck.” Meouch breathed, heaving his smoker’s lungs in a futile effort to keep up with the energetic Doctor.  With his physical activity maxed out already, he paused, huffing and puffing as he bent over to catch his breath, “Oh, that guy’s like the fasted piece of shit alive--Ah!” Meouch thrashed and squirmed as Havve unceremoniously picked him up and continued pursuing Doctor Sung.  As much as Meouch wanted to protest…  This was probably the fastest--and easiest--way to get to the  _ Vangelis _ in short order.   
***   
         “My darling, I’m not trying to upset you, I’m merely…  I want you to have the closure you need.” The Observer explained, applying pressure to Phobos’ skin in areas that would feel like being held.  “You’ve been through a great trauma.  The trauma didn’t even stay in the past, you’ve been  _ forced _ for years to live with and cooperate with the source of your trauma as if  _ you _ would be the bad guy for wanting to keep that person from ever hurting someone again.”   
         Phobos didn’t answer, his skin remained dark and dull, he remained motionless in The Observer’s “embrace”.  It was a comfort, truly, that The Observer wouldn’t think less of him for his baser urges, but…  What would Doctor Sung think?  What would Doctor Sung  _ say _ ?  Phobos rarely knew Doctor Sung to voice disappointment, so he knew it would make the judgement that much harder to bare.   
         More important than Doctor Sung’s judgement…  What would Phobos think of  _ himself _ if he chose to do such a horrible thing?  Commander Meouch  _ was _ a source of strife for so many people…  Would the universe be any worse-off than it already was to remove him from it?  Or would it make anything better?  No…  It might not make anything better, but…  If he was gone, he could cause no further harm.   
         “Please speak to me, darling…  If there is anything that I can do to cheer your mood.” The Observer continued to fuss.   
         “I don’t know.” Phobos finally responded with the barest flick of a wrist.  “I thought I did…  But it just makes me feel like a bad person.”   
         “What does?”   
         “Wanting Commander Meouch dead.”   
         “It’s not wrong to want to lash out at the source of your trauma.” The Observer comforted.  “The universe would be better without him to destroy more lives.”   
         “Maybe…  You’re right.” Phobos nodded with The Observer’s words.  “I don’t know if I could make myself do it.”  Even just talking about it made Phobos’ skin crawl.  He would  _ kill _ someone for closure?  It went against so much that he believed and Doctor Sung espoused…   
         “If the time ever comes…  I will help you.” The Observer lovingly assured.   
         “I…  I would like that.” Phobos slumped, giving in.


	8. Episode VIII:  The World of the Lost

         Needless to say, Doctor Sung was chomping at the bit to leave Lodora.  Meouch and Havve, meanwhile, were a little more sedate in their eagerness to leave.  In fact, Meouch was willing to set up a betting pool about whether or not Sung’s cells were going to vibrate so rapidly that they eventually just phased through the metal of the ship and out of existence all together.  Probably, the most that would happen though, would be Sung’s high-intensity space suit would combust.   
         “Look, you mentioned that you need to make a call, why not try doing  _ that _ while we wait for fly clearance?” Meouch nudged the Doctor.   
         “You are  _ absolutely _ correct, Commander!”  Sung, tapped a slider and opened a channel, “Uh, okay, Commander Meouch, I need you to read me a STRUT code real fast.”   
         “Oh, that far away, huh?”  Meouch raised a furry brow before reaching to a screen nearby to pull up all the stored addresses therein.  “Whose do you need?”   
         “Bryrrna’s.” Sung stated, waiting patiently.   
         The Interstellar Spatially Transient Radio Unilateral Transmitter was a somewhat roundabout method of communication in the vastness of space.  It could not transmit and receive simultaneously, but it had long been assumed to be a perfect invention in and of itself.  Many wished for the day that it would become the Bilateral Transmitter, but so far, no one had stepped up to the task of improving it.  Unfortunately, in order to send messages--it working far more like morse code than a telephone or even e-mail--one had to have their ship fitted with a STRUT, which was, occasionally, more trouble than it was worth.   
         With the proper Interstellar STRUT address queued into the ship’s input, Doctor Sung recorded the message, “To Bryrrna of Earth and Lyrdaanaavydaa of Earth, greetings from Doctor Sung, Havve Hogan and Commander Meouch!  If you are out on a space jaunt currently, we would much appreciate a chance to meet up with you and discuss a star chart we have.  You spent many cycles in the Industrial Cluster that has Lodora in it and have spent a lot of time surveying in general.  We hope you will be able to help us, even if it comes to us having to travel back to Earth to show you the chart.  Fondest wishes to you always, we love your balls forever:  The Groove Crusaders.”   
         Meouch pressed what was essentially the “send” button and waited for Doctor Sung to turn off the “outgoing” channel and switch to the “incoming” channel.   
         The transmitter’s panel beeped much faster than either of them had expected.  Scarcely an hour had passed and they had finally been granted clearance to launch.  Waiting to listen to the message until they were safely up in orbit, Sung, Meouch and Havve successfully guided the ship up and out of the bay of Chameta.  With only a general idea of the direction they were going in, Meouch turned the  _ Vangelis _ in the correct direction.  The Galactic Core was between them and their final destination, however, so they would have to take a more roundabout route to the correct arm to avoid the supermassive black hole at its center.   
         “All right, let’s listen to that message.” Sung accessed the transmitter’s interface and drew up not a mere audio message, but a video message.  With an image appearing across the main viewport of the cockpit, Sung couldn’t help but laugh as the image of a gelatinous zilbyrgh greeted them.  Oh, and Brian’s mature and greying, human body was also there, deadpan staring from the bottom of the screen with icy, blue eyes.  Lyrdaanaavydaa, while not shape-shifted into a human shape, was around eight or nine feet tall, leaving Brian a dwarf.   
         “To the Groove Crusaders, hello from orbit around Taeotquin.  You guys are super close to us; Arin, Brian and I got clearance to go on vacation, so we’re doing that!” Lyrdaanaavydaa--or known as Dan on Earth--began. “Both Bryrrna and I would love to help you with your map problem, but you know, we can’t really do that without a picture of it…  My transmitter says you’re in the same Industrial Cluster, so if you’d like to meet up we can.  If you’re on a tight schedule though, just send us a photo.” Dan’s body waved with happy green as he spoke, his ‘fro of cranial palpators standing fully erect and swaying placidly.  “Oh, and this asshole has something to say.”  Sticking a three-fingered, nearly see-through hand to the “lens” of the camera, Dan pulled its view down to where his chest was to get a better view of Brian.   
         “You had  _ better _ not go this long without contacting us again, boys.  Don’t make me haul my whale ass out there to find you.” Brian “warned” significantly less threatening in his surrogate body than he was as a 100-ton warship  _ spacewhale _ .   
         Dan panned the camera back up to the pair of fist-sized, black protrusions that served as his species’ eyes, “That’s all for now, get back to us as soon as you can.” The transmission ended, leaving Meouch to stare at where the image used to be.   
         “Something the matter, Commander?” Sung asked, seeing the unease on his face.   
         “No, not really…  Hey, here’s the star chart, I have the star we need marked on it, send a video to those guys and I’ll be right back.” Meouch stood and handed the map to Sung, skittering back to the bathroom at the stern of the ship.   
         Sung made a “tsk” noise, “Commander, you know lying to me doesn’t work!”   
         “Then I don’t want to talk about it!” Meouch called back.   
          “Fine, fine, whatever.”  Sung, in Meouch’s absence, reached to flip the STRUT back into outgoing mode.  It took a bit of help from Havve to manage all the connections in the  _ Vangelis’ _ dash to hook up an audio-visual recorder, but the two still managed it and recorded visuals of the star chart to send before Meouch returned.  Sung remembered to turn the STRUT back onto incoming mode and the three waited patiently together.   
          It was a long hour of thumb twiddling, “rock, scissors, lizard, paper, Spock” and spinning around in command chairs, but eventually, they were rewarded with a response from Lyrdaanaavydaa.   
         Meouch queued up the data and leaned on his elbow, propping his chin up.   
         “To the Groove Crusaders, of course I have data on this star!”  Dan’s image was rippling with even brighter tones of green than before, signaling excitement.  “This is a star we have dubbed  _ Aaxynylaa~ly~xzaayn _ !”  The zilbyrgh standard language was one entirely sung; pitch, tone, length of a note and breaths were all equally important when contextualizing a sentence.  Sung personally needed a vocoder or talk box to reach some of the notes and their proper qualities to speak this particular language.  “It has five planets inside of an asteroid belt and six outside of it, it’s starting to go into the latter half of its life, making the first two planets too hot to be habitable, but the third planet--and later the fourth planet, perhaps--are still habitable.  My people have long been considering colonizing the warm oceans of the third planet, but would find the fourth planet too cold to be hospitable.  Humans might do okay though, considering they live in places like  _ Canada _ .” Dan laughed, running his left hand up through his wriggling cranial palpators.  “The star chart you sent looks quite old though, so naturally, some things have shifted a little.  I’ll have an extra image attached to this transmission to show the updated orbit around the Galactic Core.  Hope this has helped!”  The transmission ended and Meouch pulled up the mentioned extra image.  Given that the image was a contemporary star chart, created by one of the most curious races in the tri-galaxy area, it was very precise, even outlining the the names, sizes, classes, and approximate orbit and rotation times of each planet.   
         “How did you say you guys met those two?” Meouch turned his head to look to Havve and Sung.   
         “Oh, we’ve known each other for  _ cycles _ .” Sung laughed, “Though, last time we were together was last cycle.”   
         “Ah…  That makes a lot of sense.” Meouch nodded, looking to the star chart and saving it to the  _ Vangelis _ ’ systems.  With a map installed that the  _ Vangelis _ could read, it automatically turned itself in the correct trajectory around the Galactic core and beyond.  “So…  Whenever everyone is ready, we can jump.”   
         “Oh!  You’re right Commander!”  Sung patted Havve’s shoulder and the robot responded accordingly by flipping switches and turning dials and calculating chances of survival.  Hopefully, this would be the  _ last _ time they would have to jump systems in their search and this was going to take  _ a long-ass time _ .   
***   
         “Doc, I just want some sleep.” Meouch grumbled, nearing the end of their fourth rotation in the space between destinations.  “I can’t keep going like you and Havve.”   
         “But don’t you want to be up already when we reach the system?” Sung queried while Havve drummed a little beat against the console with a pair of sticks.   
         “Ugh,” Slinging his bass from his fingers and back around to behind him, Meouch looked to their ship’s internal clock, “We have like…  Two more rotations until we get there!  I’m not going to sleep that long.”   
         “Commander, you once slept for twenty-eight hours straight while we were on Earth.” Doctor Sung pointed out with a bit of humor.   
         “Because I had been up for a week and had a whole tray of pot brownies.  Unless you have some delicious Earth treats up here somewhere, I don’t think you have to worry about that.” Meouch stalked from the room towards his sleeping quarters.  He was beginning to remember just  _ why _ the four of them had split up in the first place.   
         “Nap well!” Sung called after him, diverting attention back to Havve, “How do you think sleeping races ever get things done?”   
         Havve shrugged, meaning “They don’t.”   
         “Ah, yes, you do have a point.”   
***   
         As fate would have it, the Groove Crusaders entered the system of the Vysvian-named star before Meouch ever awoke.  It was not much larger than Earth’s Sol, but it was beginning its expansion that would take billions of years and would eventually consume its whole system.  As the small  _ Vangelis _ winked back into existence in orbit around one of the system’s gas giants, Havve stood to go wake up Meouch.   
         Though excitement boiled within Doctor Sung, the distinct feeling of  _ knowing _ their task on the planet wasn’t going to be easy advised caution.  Instead of jumping straight to either of the habitable planets--and just because one was habitable for the zilbyrgh people, didn’t mean it was habitable for all life forms as they were silicon-based life and could swim in liquid ammonia--Sung felt a meal interval was necessary.  Like sleep, food was not necessary for survival, but Sung  _ loved _ eating, as long as the food had never been sentient.  On Earth, this largely meant vegetarianism, on planets like Irapraxiis and Taeotquin where the species were closer to sentient plants than animals, it was more complicated to figure out what to eat.   
         Meouch shambled on into the main room of the  _ Vangelis _ , grumbling under his breath “How long was I out?”  He had to flick his eyes about for a few seconds to see Doctor Sung nestled in the kitchenette--not unlike one a person could find in an Earth apartment--flipping chicken eggs in a pan.   
         “About two rotations.  You got up at one point to use that box of sand, but otherwise, you’ve just been asleep.” Doctor Sung informed while Havve slipped past Meouch to go sit.  The only places to really sit were the command chairs and they were each one with the floor, so there was no dining table.  The Groove Crusaders did what they could with their cramped living space, every last nook and cranny had its own use, down to the small divot in the floor by the door that held three pairs of dorky shoes instead of four.   
         “Want to try eating today, Havve?” Sung asked with a smile.   
         Havve’s head tilted towards Doctor Sung, while Meouch didn’t have Sung’s gifts, it was clear to both present that the gesture meant “I don’t have a stomach, idiot.”   
         “Just thought I’d ask.” Doctor Sung said with a grin, making Meouch laugh, patting his stomach.   
         “Well, I’ve not had Sung’s famous Earth eggs in many cycles.” Meouch walked over to his chair, plopping down next to Havve, “Kind missed your breakfasts actually.  Most in the flotilla aren’t a fan of Earth cuisine.”  A moment of silence passed between the speaking parties in the room, “So, what are you going to do after we find Phobos…?”   
         “I don’t know.” Doctor Sung shrugged, flipping the fried eggs with a flick of the wrist.  “I think you’re more the one we should ask, Commander.”   
         “Ahhh, I mean,” Meouch used his whole sitting body to shrug, down to the pink pads of his feet. “I got obligations and shit.  I don’t want to be a deserter.”   
         Doctor Sung new he was serious, “You seem to have much pride in your flotilla, Commodore.”   
         “I’ve gotten em through some hard times.” Meouch nodded, running his fingers back through his bedhead mane.  “They’re an amazing bunch of people.”   
         “For pirates?” Sung wondered.   
         “No, for anyone.  Might clash with your ideals of what morals are, but I  _ am _ a pirate, Doc.”   
         Doctor Sung didn’t answer with anything more than a nod.  The six eggs were plated and handed off to Commander Meouch with a fork.  The big cat man licked his chops and dug into the gooey mess on the plate, the breaking yolks sticking to the fur of his lips and beard.  Doctor Sung preferred the eggs more well-cooked, scrambled with cream.  Alas, all the dairy products on the ship had long been eaten.   
         With not much else left to discuss, the group ate silently. Havve monitored stations while the other two took some downtime, but there was nothing of interest to report.   
  
         Once assessing that the third planet wouldn’t be hospitable for Phobos’ easily overheated species, the Groove Crusaders set their sights on the fourth planet.  Though Lydraanaavydaa described the planet as cold by the zilbyrgh people’s standards, it was just about where Earth was in its orbit.  Its bodies of water were liquid until getting too close to the poles and its terrestrial masses were rocky.  It would’ve made a fine Earth analog if it wasn’t on the other side of the Galactic Core from them.  There was also the fact that the planet was inhabited, perhaps not by the most advanced society, but the notes Lyrdaanaavydaa had left on the star chart indicated that they were peaceful.  All the same, the Groove Crusaders were going to sidestep the living spaces of the native race.  They were an aquatic race, so it wouldn’t be that hard to do so.   
         Finding Phobos’ pod was easy, Sung maneuvered the  _ Vangelis _ to the ancient planet’s surface.  Today was a balmy one with a storm churning the warm, hospitable seas. The beach seemed barren of life that day, but even Meouch wondered at what life could lay beyond the rocky surface.  With his bass slung across his back, he exited the  _ Vangelis _ first, Havve following along and Sung was the last to disembark, a pair of nunchucks hanging from a utility belt.   
         “Fan out, check the pod and the surrounding area, wherever Phobos is, it’s not here.” Doctor Sung immediately suggested.  Meouch and Havve did as instructed, eagerly, but with caution in their steps, approaching the familiar space vessel.   
         While Meouch and Havve inspected the vacant pod--Phobos’ couple of other guitars laying in their protective cases--Sung had sights on something else.  There was a cleft in the fabric of space and time on this beach.  Stepping across the grey pebble sand to the anomaly, Sung reached out a hand, probing a gentle finger along this collision site.  Forcible rips, even when mended properly, always left a scar in this universe’s fabric.  Like a zig-zag stitch to repair torn jeans or a lovingly-applied interfacing patch to restore an antique garment, these things could be hidden to the average eye, but not to the ones familiar with repair work.  Sung contemplated the invisible ripple carefully; to invade the pocket of another was past rude and it was possible that it was merely coincidence that it was here.  They would need proof of the tear’s relevance.   
         “Doc!” Meouch called, drawing Sung’s attention.   
         “Commander?” Sung’s hand dropped from the air.   
         “What were you doing?” Meouch asked, noticing his friend’s peculiar demeanor.   
         “It’s not important,” Sung forced a smile.   
         “Oh, well…  Havve and I didn’t find anything in the pod.  He just left all his stuff, but his Explorer is missing.” Meouch’s tone was forlorn.  “Just some footprints around the beach, but the water and wind have blown away most of the trail.”  He paused, “I… Know you don’t like to…  But, I was thinking you could, um…”  Meouch, never one to beat around anyone’s bush but his own, made a small motion to Sung’s pylon.  “Remove that.”   
         Sung’s lips pursed, but didn’t look unhappy, thoughtful was a better description.   
         “You  _ Know _ better without it.” Meouch plied.  “This is the closest we’ve gotten, surely there’s…   _ Enough _ here to help.”   
         “You do have a point, Meouch.” Looking to the sand, then back up “Where’s Havve?” Sung’s arms folded, gaze once more returning to the scar in the universe.   
         “I’ll...” Meouch nodded, “I’ll go get him.”  He tracked away, back to the uninhabited pod.   
         Sung, alone on the sand, reached up to the audio sensors of the pylon.  Running a finger over a small protrusion upon the pillar, Sung felt a pronounced “click” inside the helmet.  With a sharp, inward breath, Sung lifted the pylon up and off.   
         A million sounds and  _ feelings _ assaulted the senses in an instant; Sung’s ears bled, empty pits where eyes should have been erupted with prismatic light and the cleft of the universe pulsed in an array of colors, feelings and sounds too complex to name.  The heart raced with unbridled excitement and the mind wandered with infinite curiosity; pieces of self and ideas of body, consciousness and  _ being _ all dispersed before it all came back together again as one solid, thinking, living person.  Sung’s body released an almost pained sigh, looking down to the pylon grasped between trembling hands.  Blood dripped from the metallic auditory prongs inside the pylon and stained the sand below, but Sung wasn’t concerned with the blood.   
         Awareness expanding over the section of the coastline, Sung paid special attention at first to Meouch and Havve in the pod, but diverted it the ghosts of the footprints in the beach.  High and low tides had washed away the bulk of Phobos’ trek, and wind, as Meouch had said, damaged the rest.  The prints, however, glowed warm to Sung’s awareness.  The paced along the strandline, around the pod, over a collection of disturbed rocks, in a circle and to where Phobos had settled for awhile.  Placing the pylon gently on the ground first, Sung followed over to this spot where the Sepianid had lain.  He was hopeless here, sad, having given up on much.  Sung’s heart hurt.   
         “Anything?” Sung heard from Meouch, but not from his mouth.  It was in his posture and his frown that Sung heard this question.  The way his eyes remained averted to something on the horizon told Sung “What even  _ is _ he?” in disgusted tones.  Sung wasn’t offended.   
         “Yes, I know where he is.” Sung confirmed.   
         “He’s not on this plane, is he?” Havve asked, Sung hearing the full, icy timbre of the usually absent voice.   
         “No, he’s not.” Sung answered the robot’s question next.   
         Meouch, however, unable to hear Havve, screwed his face up in “He’s not what?” while his mouth said “Can you give me a straight answer, short, bright and disfigured?”   
         Sung laughed, tone filled with gentleness, “My bad, Meouch.  Follow me.”  Leading the other two back from the disturbed ground to the rippling and pulsating cleft in the fabric of reality, Sung delved a finger into the slice, giving a solid yank.   
         Laws of time and space yielded to the experienced hand, giving way to a hole of nothing.  Meouch stepped back and Havve’s shoulders squared while the air of their current dimension whooshed inwards to this new space in a strong wind.  The Groove Crusaders stood at the mouth of something’s home, something very old and something that held their missing friend.


	9. Episode IX:  Time and Space and Everything in Between

         The Observer had been quiet for what felt like an eternity.  To make it all the more unsettling, Phobos knew that they weren’t gone.  They were still in this pocket universe with him.  Phobos felt the sweet validation of The Observer’s gaze, and had long come to realize that The Observer didn’t require sleep or food.  Like with Doctor Sung and Havve, Phobos couldn’t imagine such long existences--Sung and Havve both were thousands of years old--without the respite of sleep.  Many species didn’t sleep, but so few were long-lived; there were some of these species who were considered geriatric at the age of thirty Earth years.  Phobos’ species held about as many years as two human life spans.  He was barely out of his larval stage when Meouch came to his unsuspecting planet.  Ailunthrians were much the same in longevity and Phobos often tried to attribute Meouch’s rash behavior in prior cycles to his young age.  His nose still held the pink of adolescence and his mane was cant when they had met...   
_ Even a child knows the weight of a life. _ Phobos thought to himself.  He should have killed Meouch then.  “Observer…?”  Phobos questioned the darkness with seeking hands “Is something wrong?”   
         “Not…  Wrong exactly.” They answered, a pressure against Phobos’ hands “More, unexpected.”   
         “What is it?”   
         “The Ailunthrian is near.” The Observer said, letting the gravity of the moment sink in.   
         While Phobos at first jumped at the idea of a seizable opportunity, it was just too good to be true “Is he… Alone?” Phobos’ hands hesitated in their question.   
         “No.”   
         Phobos froze, now was his chance for closure! Now he could exact the revenge that he had been denied!  However…  He knew Doctor Sung would surely stop him if that was who he was traveling with.  Doctor Sung with smooth words and compassion for all living things.  The Observer had said they would help…  They just needed to keep Sung occupied until Phobos could do it.  Then there was Havve…  Hell, who was he kidding?  Havve wanted to kill Meouch--and everyone else for that matter--more than anyone.  This could work…   
         “Where is he?” Phobos asked.   
         “Well,” The Observer began as a blinding light cut through the comforting nothing of the pocket universe.  Phobos turned from it, knowing its source and that looking straight into it could blind his sensitive eyes.   
         “Phobos!”  Commander Meouch called, suddenly emboldened to enter the portal behind Doctor Sung.  He could see him, his brother was right there, curled up on an unseeable ground.  There was something wrong though, Phobos didn’t look at him, he kept his gaze averted, he did not move though Meouch knew him to be alive.   
         A tense air filled the pocket universe.  The soothing sounds and smells of the crashing waves beyond the portal was all there was for a long time.  The first one to break this relative silence was Doctor Sung “You’ve taken some very interesting company in our absence, Phobos.” For once, Sung’s words helped nothing.  There was no joy, no optimism, nothing but icy disapproval reserved for something neither of the other Groove Crusaders knew anything about.   
         Phobos nearly raced to explain himself in the face of this uncustomary lack of emotion in Sung’s words, but The Observer’s voice came before he could move.   
         “This answers all my questions.” They said, observing Sung’s warped excuse for a human body.   
         Mouth ticking into a pronounced frown, Sung stared at the being of light in front of Phobos Meouch, meanwhile looked about in alarm, “Doc…  Where’s that voice coming from…?”   
         “You’re The Observer, correct?” Sung took a step towards Phobos, but no more when he flinched back.   
         “Doc?” Meouch crept with Sung, this whole place filled him with dread, he felt his skin crawling with disgust, but couldn’t figure out why.  “Doc, I shouldn’t be here, I feel---”   
         “Ignore it.” Sung tersely cut him off “Their Gaze is on you.”   
         “Who’s they?”  Meouch quivered, looking about for anyone he didn’t recognize.   
         “What have you done to that terran, child?” The Observer drew Doctor Sung’s complete attention back.  They glided towards the small collection of beings in their midst, Sung’s awareness tracking their every move.  Sung even reached a protective arm back to Meouch.   
         “Are you The Observer, or aren’t you?”  Sung demanded with uncharacteristic hostility.   
         “Yes, child.” The Observer released a snort, “And who are you?”   
         “I am Doctor Sung.” Sung answered, feeling Meouch squirming.   
         “No, your real name.” The Observer stopped, their Gaze flipped back to Meouch, radiating disgust and malice.  They watched the Ailunthrian’s eyes dart about the emptiness, searching for the source of the voice.  Meouch was beginning to sweat against Sung’s back.   
         “I  _ am _ Doctor Sung and I am here for my brother.” Sung asserted, “You’ve held him here long enough.”   
         The Observer made a bitter noise, changing their Gaze to the robot in the room.  It was discomfiting to be unable to read the being in anyway.  It just stood there staring as if it could see The Observer, red eyes glowing.  The Observer looked back to Phobos, “I’ve not been holding him here.” The Observer fondly informed, he has been wanting my company.” They assured.  “My darling…  Step towards them.  Don’t be afraid, I will protect you.”   
         Phobos did as asked, albeit, not without reticence.  He didn’t  _ want _ to get near Sung.  He could attack Meouch, but never Doctor Sung.  Sung who was one of the few reasons he was still alive.  He glanced over Sung’s shoulder to cowering Meouch and then to silent, menacing Havve.  The robot’s arms were folded calmly enough, but the human hands were clenched into tight fists.  Phobos knew how to put Havve out of commission quickly enough, it was just a matter of getting close.  Also a matter of dealing with the aftermath, but he could worry about that later.   
         “I’m glad to see you’re safe.” Sung told Phobos softly, knowing that without the pylon, looking was painful for him.   
         Phobos gently moved his hands “I wish you hadn’t come here.”   
         Meouch swallowed with such a foreboding statement from his friend “Y-You want to stay?” As if in response to his evident fear, Havve stepped to his said, placing a tense hand on his shoulder.   
         Phobos, however, didn’t answer him, he wouldn’t even loo at him, he kept his eyes fixed on the dimmer light in Sung’s chest.   
         “I hope you know you’ve killed this terran.” The Observer continued fixating on Doctor Sung in particular.   
         Doctor Sung gave a mirthless laugh, “Oh, he’s not dead.  I thin it’s ver funny and  _ telling _ that you keep assuming that this wasn’t a consensual arrangement.” Sung shoved Meouch’s hand from the right pauldron, making a grab for Phobos.   
         Jumping, Phobos slapped Doctor Sung’s hand away, sidestepping from grabbing distance with a flash of light.  At the same time, Sung’s body was flung off into the darkness with a surprised yelp.  Phobos clenched his hands, Meouch was close and  _ unprotected _ .   
         Lunging to a latch a hand onto Meouch’s arm, he wrenched the Ailunthrian away from Havve’s unprepared grasp.  He was only going to have a few seconds before the robot was upon them.   
         Meouch clenched his teeth and gave a feline snarl, “Let go of me!” He dug his claws into Phobos’ wrist, tearing the red material of his space suit as he thrust the hand away.  He tried to reach for his bass, but Phobos was faster, as soon as the one hand was dislodged, Phobos grabbed him with another.  This time, Phobos added a little extra insurance, flexing his fingers, the retracted barbs that ordinarily laid in the pits of his palms sprung out, hooking into Meouch’s flesh through his command blues.  With the new leverage, while Meouch roared in pain, Phobos wheeled back his other hand, barbs extended.   
  
         Across the empty space, Sung fought against the being of light, being careful to not do anything potentially deadly.  Though it was considerably harder to gain the upper hand while doing so, as well as being limited by a body.  With a loud grunt, Sung landed hard upon an unseen wall once more.   
         “If this was a so-called ‘consensual arrangement’ tell me, what  _ did _ you bait the poor boy with?” The Observer snarked, observing Sung laid out before them.   
         Doctor Sung huffed, sitting upright “I didn’t ‘bait him’ with anything.”  Sung didn’t even bother to listen for the other three, it was obvious that The Observer was presenting a distraction while an attempted murder was underway.  This was  _ their _ pocket, they could manipulate its plane any way they saw fit.  For now, it was just going to be playing their game.   
         “He wanted to see the stars and see things he had only dreamed of.  I wanted to feel a corporeal body.”  Doctor Sung stood, but did not strike out at The Observer.  This one was not unlike Sung, they both deplored violence.  “I didn’t want to waste away in boredom the way my mothers did in some pocket universe.  He was excited for everything I found so commonplace and could teach him about and I was to be everything I already wasn’t.”   
         “So, you became a body-snatcher?”  The Observer assumed.   
         “You’ve never taken a host before, have you?”  Sung knew the answer, but it wasn’t polite to know something about the self of another before being told.   
         “Stealing the life of another has never sat well with me.” The Observer explained.   
         “Funny you say that as you’ve told my friends to murder each other.”   
         “The Ailunthrian killed  _ billions _ .  It’s a small price to pay for the destruction of a people.  He doesn’t even have an excuse like the gekur do.”   
         “More death doesn’t bring anyone back.”   
         “But it can mean the world to a lone survivor.”   
         Sung didn’t know what to say for once.   
         “Tell me, what  _ is _ it like to steal a body?  Must be the highest form of selfishness.”   
         “You’ve never had a host.  You don’t know how scary it is.” Sung took a few steps to the side, aware that The Observer followed every movement. Sung was the squirming bug beneath a microscope “The only person in  _ here _ is Doctor Sung, me.” Raising a hand, Doctor Sung tapped a veined, bleeding temple.  “Because he is as much me as I am The Singer.”   
         The Observer seemed unmoved, but could not deny the truthfulness in Doctor Sung’s words.   
          “If he is dead, as you say, then The Singer is dead too.” Doctor Sung grinned, gleeful as a child “I am he as you are he as you are me and we are all together!”   
         The fabric of the pocket wavered as The Observer asked “Was that supposed to mean something?”   
         “No, not really!”  Doctor Sung ducked the grabbing beams of light The Observer had for arms, “But it sure confused you!” Rolling back upright, Doctor Sung rushed for the figures in the distance.   
  
         Meouch thrashed in Phobos’ grip as Havve caught the Sepianid’s hand and squeezed.  Phobos, having no other choice, brought his face in, smashing into Havve’s unyielding, cold and metallic angles.  In the robot’s momentary confusion, Phobos’ oral palpators slung low underjaw into the darkness.  The prehensile tentacles jammed every switch and button available to them, leaving a thick, sticky mucus-slime over each one.  With their job done, Phobos prepared for the backlash--a terrible sound of ripping metal filled the space, Phobos releasing Meouch to cover his ear holes.  Havve fell to the ground, hands groping over metal and circuitry that could neither be seen, nor heard, nor felt.  Havve continued to scream in the agony of no sensory input whatsoever, there was nothing that existed in the robot’s world.   
         “Shit!” Meouch skated away from the wild and inconsolable death machine.  Reaching behind him with a bleeding arm, he grabbed his bass with just enough time to smash Phobos’ soft head with its body.   
         The dazed stumble Phobos went into gave Meouch enough time to right his fingers on his instrument, pointing its neck to his friend, “You calm your shit right now!” He shouted over Havve’s continuous screeching. “Look what the fuck you’ve done!” he gestured to the screaming bot on the floor.   
         Phobos remained hunched, ready at the first possible second to attack once more.  Taking one step forward, he saw Meouch’s hands jump to the strings of the bass.   
         “You stay right there while I try to fix this shit!” Meouch warned, stepping backwards towards Havve.  His eyes flicked to the dangerous friend on the floor, but Phobos’ swift motions in his peripheral caught his attention again, “Stay! Away!” Meouch strummed twice, a pair of pulse projectiles firing from the headstock at the incoming threat.   
         Phobos twisted away in time for the dangerous, white hot pulses to sail off into oblivion.   
         “You made your bass into a  _ pulse gun _ ?!” Doctor Sung shouted in incredulity, running by the pair and skidding to a stop.   
         “Like you’ve never thought of it?” Meouch back pedaled while Phobos regained his footing.   
         “ _ No _ !” Doctor Sung shouted again at the sheer insanity of it all, “Why would I ever--Oof!” And off Sung once more flew with the power of a great impact.   
         Phobos couldn’t help the thought of  _ This looks awfully familiar _ . He rolled his eyes and rushed at Commander Meouch while he was still distracted by the unseen force doing battle with Doctor Sung.  Instead of grabbing for Meouch directly, he grabbed the neck of his bass, clenching his hand down across the strings to keep them from vibrating.   
         With no distractions this time, Lord Phobos’ punch hit its mark, right on the end of Meouch’s nose.  If not for the guitar strap around him, it would’ve been powerful enough to put him on the floor, but with the strap firmly fixing him in place, it gave Phobos ample opening to slug him a few more times.   
         Too dazed at first to respond, Meouch finally raised his hands to deal one back at the sensitive mantle of Phobos’ head, “Sorry bud!” He clenched his bloody teeth and doled out a second, laying Phobos out on the ground.  Huffing and trying to regain a bit of breath, he foolishly turned his back to his aggressor, rushing to his robotic friend’s side.  To Phobos’ surprise, he saw Meouch reaching underneath Havve’s jaw to find the needed switches.  Havve’s screeching was near deafening and Meouch’s ears were ringing.  This was probably the stupidest thing Phobos had ever seen Meouch undertake.  Yes, Havve was experiencing a pain that Phobos would never wish on anyone, but…  Was Meouch that dumb?   
         Finding one of the switches Meouch gleefully cheered when the screeching stopped, but which sense had he found?  Sight and hearing would’ve been the most beneficial in the moment, but apparently all he had found was touch.  How did he figure this out?  Havve grabbed his wrist and squeezed, snapping the bones almost instantly.   
         Meouch cried out, all pride forgotten in sudden pain.  At least the broken and useless appendage was able to slip freely from the clenching vise.  He fell backwards tail thrashing as tears pricked at his eyes and he tried to move away, but Havve’s spatial awareness was strong enough to follow him.  A hand grasping his tail, Meouch yowled wildly, reaching his non-injured hand out to Phobos, “Help me!” he pleaded, Havve drawing him closer.  Meouch tried to kick his boots into Havve’s face plate, but nearly risked one getting bitten off entirely when the sole got caught in the scissorbite of his teeth   
         Phobos stood unmoving and watched Havve drag him closer, it was foolhardy to try to calm Havve without Doctor Sung at hand…  However, this solved Phobos’ problem, it wouldn’t have been  _ his _ fault if he just let Havve do all the work for him.  Phobos was aware of Havve’s opening jaws and Meouch’s tail being dragged towards it, but did nothing.  This wasn’t going to be his fault…  He could say it was an accident.  It was Meouch’s fault for getting too close.   
  
_ “You have the power to  _ do _ something about this!  They’re your people!  You created them! Why the fuck are you just sitting there watching?!”  Arin, a tall, dark-haired human dressed in Hello Kitty pajamas shouted at the Old One of Void. _ _   
_ _          Polybius, barely over five feet tall with a perpetual smirk seemed unmoved, only blinking slowly.  He was flanked on one side by his much taller, human son who could not bear the sight of him. _ _   
_ _          Arin dwarfed the Old One, but even in his seething anger, he new there was nothing physical that could ever be done against the being.  Arin had been at the heart of this whole nasty business with the council that decided the gekur people deserved extermination.  He was the only one who knew the truth.  He was one and only human leading a hopeless people and a hodgepodge band of others that wished to help.  He was  _ trying _ so hard, yet the one who had all the power in the universe to make this all stop refused to help. _   
_ “Because I can.” Polybius said, his smirk widening into a cheshire grin that split his human lips all the way up his cheeks to make room for the size of his smile.  “It’s not my fault it’s happening.”  Phobos, at Doctor Sung’s side, looked on in disgust. _ _   
_ _          “But you can stop it!” Arin pleaded once more, near tears. “Just do  _ something _.” _ _   
_ _          “Where’s the fun in that when I can just watch?” Polybius giggled.  “I’ve caused none of this.  What’s more is, it’s not  _ my _ people causing the problem, it’s all of theirs.” Polybius gestured out past the viewport of the battleship. “My fellow Old Ones and I created the lot of you to decide your own paths.  This is not my problem, it’s yours.” _ _   
_ _          “Arin, you’re talking to a brick wall.”  Brian--who was Bryrrna--spat, “We’re just going to have to figure out what to do without him.” _ _   
_ _          “Hah, you say that as if I’m shirking some kind of duty.” Polybius continued to giggle. _ _   
_ _          “You are.” Brian hissed, advancing on the unmoving, miniscule man. “You have the power to stop all of this but you’re doing  _ nothing _ because you gain entertainment from it.  If we go to these pirates for information and they have nothing and the gekur die anyway, it’s  _ your fault _.”  Brian took Arin’s arm, “Come on, we’re wasting time.” _ _   
_ _          Sung gently elbowed Phobos’ arm, “Follow them, we have to do something.” _ _   
_ _   
_          “Brilliant plan, darling.” Phobos was drawn out of his contemplations by The Observer’s touch on his back. He jumped, looking back to Meouch as a more pressing noise met his ears.  He didn’t have words for Meouch’s screaming, he had never heard anything like it from him before.  There was blood everywhere, on the ground, over Havve’s face and staining the backside of Meouch’s command blues.  “Just a bit longer.” The Observer assured him, trying to take him away from the horrible sight.   
         Where was Doctor Sung?  When was Sung going to arrive?  Surely, Sung would…  Meouch was crying, screaming...  There was no way Doctor Sung couldn’t hear him.  What if… What if Doctor Sung never came?   
         “Phobos!” Meouch shrieked, his voice raw with pain, terror, and desperation.   
         “I… I’m sorry.” Phobos signed.   
         “Don’t be sorry, dear.” The Observer soothed, “He deserves this.”   
         “I wasn’t apologizing to him.” Phobos stepped away from The Observer, grabbing Meouch’s bass and shoulder.  With a deft hand, he unstrapped the bass from his chest and swung it down onto Havve’s face.  The body and neck of the weaponized instrument snapped in a flurry of splinters, twisted metal and pulse transmitters.  The sensation of such a blunt assault was confusing enough for the robot to release Meouch’s leg and give Phobos time to haul him out of grasp.   
         “Oh…” The Observer trailed off “So, you wish to do it yourself?”  They paid the robot on the ground no mind as it scrambled its hands over its chassis to the space underneath its jaw.   
         Phobos stood, leaving Meouch on the ground to curl in pain, reaching back to the base of his spine to where his tail used to be.  The big Ailunthrian sobbed, inconsolable as he brought his bloody hand back to his face, “If you’re going to kill me, just fucking do it.”   
         “No.” Phobos spoke.   
         Meouch’s ears twitched, even against the wall of pain he was experiencing, the voice was new.  It wasn’t disembodied like The Observer’s, but it was soft, grainy from disuse, but kind, “What did you say?” Meouch looked up to Phobos standing over him.   
         “I wanted to kill a monster.” Phobos said again, “The one that indiscriminately killed  _ all _ my people.”   
         Cowed, Meouch winced back on the ground, keeping his eyes on Phobos, but curling into a protective ball.   
         “The one that took my dignity, my morals and my  _ voice _ .” Phobos’ soft voice grew louder and more confident with each syllable and Meouch remained mesmerized on the ground. “Who took  _ everything _ from me.”   
          “So… Why not kill him?” The Observer queried.   
          Phobos shook his head “Of all the things that monster took, there is still one power I hold over it and that’s my forgiveness.  I alone have the ability to give it, and no one else can take that from me.”  He knelt down at Meouch’s side before continuing “As much as I want to extend that forgiveness to such a monster…”   
         Meouch flinched back as Phobos raised a smooth, glowing hand to touch his mane.   
         “It’s plain to see that that monster doesn’t exist anymore.”  Phobos stated, aware that the Gaze of The Observer on his back took upon a different flavor.  It was still one of validation, but…  There was something else too, but what was it?   
         “I… Phobos…” Meouch fumbled for a few seconds, but stopped attempting when Phobos’ quiet voice came again.   
         “So, instead, I would like to extend this forgiveness to the man the monster has become.  Commander Meouch?”   
         “Y-Yes?”  Meouch worked to prop himself up on one elbow, but the shooting pain up his spine convinced him that remaining on the ground was the best option possible.   
         “I forgive you.” Phobos carefully pronounced.   
         “I don’t deserve it.” Meouch answered honestly.   
         “Perhaps you might think so, but, it does me no good to keep these things inside.  I needed…  Someone to show me that.”  Phobos looked around, eyes equally blind as Meouch’s to the being of light at his side.  “I would be killing the wrong person to take out my grief and my rage on you now.”   
         The Observer remained quiet.   
         “Observer,” Phobos spoke, his voice gracefully curling around the name, “can you please release Doctor Sung?”   
         “As you wish, darling.” The Observer opened the proverbial fist they had Doctor Sung clenched inside.   
         “Whooaaaa!” Doctor Sung fell from some unknown height from far above the pair, landing on Havve, who was still laying prone on the ground.  “Ow! Ow!”  Sung sat up from Havve’s points and angles, rubbing the sites that would surely have new bruises.  “No need to tell me anything!  I got the whole story!” Flashing a thumbs up, Sung grinned.  The grin quickly faded though as The Observer drifted away from the four Groove Crusaders, reunited at last.   
         “Observer?” Phobos called into the darkness.   
         “What?” They sounded very far away.   
         “I…  Think I have to go now.  Not, because…  Not because I feel obligated to, but I have a lot of catching up to do with my brothers.”  Phobos turned his head back to Meouch, Doctor Sung and Havve both having come to kneel at his side and inspect the bleeding Commander.   
         “I would prefer it if you stayed…  Here with me.”  They spoke candidly, “What do they give you that I don’t?”   
         “This isn’t about that…” Phobos released his arms from around Meouch as Havve scooted arms beneath him and gently lifted Meouch from the ground.  He too stood to follow Doctor Sung and Havve, but continued to speak into the darkness “There is more more that I have left to see and learn before I can stay here with you.”   
         “But I can show you  _ anything _ you could ever want!   _ Give _ you anything!  Why would you want to return to the hardship and the… Utter  _ foolishness _ of what you do with  _ them _ ?!”  The Observer would’ve spat if they had a mouth and saliva.   
         “I had hoped that you would understand.” Phobos stated.   
         They all stood together in silence for a long time.   
         “Fine.  If you want to leave,  _ go _ for all I care!”  The rift in space and time tore open behind the Groove Crusaders.  Even as the air from a planet beyond rushed inward, an unseen force ejected them outwards onto the hard pebble-sand of the beach beyond.  Meouch yowled loudly, breaking into tears once more while Havve scrambled to pick him up once more and quell the pain.  Phobos and Sung remained next to each other, staring into the pocket universe roiling with anger and upheaval.   
         “You can rot with your  _ brothers _ .” The Observer screamed with a passion strong enough to churn the waves of the ocean into ten foot, suspended swells above the land.  In an instant, the rift mended with a harsh snap, the only other sound being the swift footfalls of Havve’s feet, carrying Meouch away as swiftly as possible.   
         “Well, where’s he going?” Sung looked overshoulder towards Havve, but refocused attention back front as Phobos tapped an arm for attention.  “Oh, what?”  Looking back front, Doctor Sung saw the tidal wave The Observer created before it came crashing down on both of them.  The surge of the powerful wave swept them both up into a harsh vortex of rocks, sea creatures and other debris.   
         Rather than ending up being sucked back into the angry, stormy sea, Sung washed up on an enormous rock, “Phobos!”   
         The Sepianid was nowhere to be found in the water below.  At least Sung knew he was alive, it was only troubling to not know his exact location.  With a heavy sigh of relief, Sung watched the aquatic alien rise from waist-deep water and walk ashore.  In his hands, he clasped something that may or may not have been important.   
         Doctor Sung dropped down from the boulder and raced to Phobos, grin on full blast, “Haha, hey there.”   
         Phobos’ shoulders shook with a musical, nearly silent laugh, “Hey there.” He signed with a hand out of habit.   
         “I uh, is that a gift for me?” Sung motioned to the bright orange pylon in Phobos’ hands.   
         “Nah,” Phobos said with a shake of his head, “Just some sea junk I found.  You can have it if you  _ really _ want it though.” Phobos continued to speak in motions and flashes of color and light, rather than with his voice. “It’s not my color at all.”   
         “Thanks.” Doctor Sung accepted the iconic contraption, lifting it to reintegrate.  Placing it back where it belonged, Doctor Sung rolled a thumb over the switch on the auditory processors.  A sharp pain lit up Sung’s brain, but it died as soon as it came.  Sounds were quieter, sights were less detailed, there was a lot less to  _ know _ with the pylon on.  Doctor Sung’s grin lit up more than before, the world was so…  _ Fascinating _ when you didn’t know every little thing going on  _ all the time _ .   
         Turning back to Phobos to regard him, Sung asked, “You want to go check on Meouch?”   
         Phobos’ color and light became muddled and dim, hesitating at first, he moved his hands in sign “If you even want me around.”   
         “Of course we do.” Doctor Sung assured, “I think the bigger question is whether or not you want  _ us _ , Lord Phobos.”   
         “I’ve missed all of you.”   
         “Then, welcome home, brother.” Doctor Sung slung an arm around Phobos’ shoulders, leading him carefully back towards the  _ Vangelis _ and his space pod to collect his things.  “You, um…  Might need a new guitar though.”   
         Phobos could hardly care that he left his Explorer with The Observer, perhaps it could help quell their anger with fond memories, “I can always get a new one.” Phobos’ shrug said.  Then, Phobos paused in their journey back to the  _ Vangelis _ , “Doctor Sung?”   
         “Yes?” Sung stepped away to Phobos’ pod to collect the remaining guitars as well as Phobos’ space suits and a backup helmet.   
         “Do you think The Observer won’t…  They won’t take some kind of revenge for this will they?”  Phobos stood by the door, watching the way Doctor Sung stood up and released a heavy sigh.   
         “It doesn’t seem like them, but” Doctor Sung’s shoulders rolled in a non-committal gesture, “I still wouldn’t say we’ve seen the last of them.”   
         Sung’s words gave Phobos pause, lifting his hands again, he asked  “Did you know The Observer?”   
         “In another lifetime, you could say.”  Hopping out of the pod with supplies in hand, Doctor Sung continued “Children of Entropy are hard to mix up.”   
         “Have you met many?”   
         Doctor Sung chuckled, opening the door in the  _ Vangelis _ ’ hull, but Phobos never received an answer, instead, Doctor Sung asked, “How are you feeling Commander?”   
         Meouch grumbled, trying to wave Havve away from him “Would be a lot better if fucking Slap Chop here hadn’t broken my wrist and cut my tail off!”   
         Havve sassily leaned to one side, one hip sticking out with arms crossed.  Doctor Sung’s pylon lit up blue.   
         “Havve asks if you would’ve preferred it be your nuts.” Sung spoke for the mute robot.   
         “But I love my nuts.” Meouch rolled over onto one side, cupping his crotch, until he saw Phobos standing at Doctor Sung’s back.  His eyes tracked Phobos as the Sepianid came to stand at his bedside, “Hey, bro…”   
         Phobos’ hands moved slow, but clearly “How are you now?”   
         “Hah, this is nothing!” Meouch tried for usual bravado, but ended up exacerbating his open wounds, “Okay, I feel like shit… I don’t think I’ll be able to walk for awhile.  My balance is going to be fucked.”   
         “I’m sorry.” Phobos said, this time with his mouth hole.   
         “Heh,” Meouch smirked fondly “I forgive you.”  The two clasped hands and squeezed tightly.   
         “Friends until the end, am I right?!” Doctor Sung cheered, completely ruining the moment.   
         “Let it be on the record that you’re the  _ actual _ worst.” Meouch huffed, “But…  Yeah, yeah, I guess.”   
         Havve patted Sung’s shoulder, the pylon flashing blues and greens.   
         “Havve reminds me that we need to get back to Earth at some point.” Sung informed, “Might have to slip into the time stream a bit to get back to where  _ we _ need to be, but, do I hear any nays to this?”   
         Phobos gave a thumbs up, Havve nodded and Meouch rolled his eyes, “Okay, you know what, what the fuck?  Sure, as long as we can come back to this time at  _ some point _ .”   
         “Sure thing!”  Sung crowed with a gleeful bounce “Perfect! Havve, take the con!  Phobos…  Well the Commander’s butt is broken right now, so I’m going to need you to do whatever it is that he does when he drives.”   
         Meouch sighed, but as Phobos patted his shoulder and he looked out of his friends--hell, his  _ Rock n’ Roll Best Friends _ \--he smiled.  He hated each and every one of them in equal measure that he loved them,  “Hope Earth is ready for us again.”   
         “Either way, here we come.” Doctor Sung giggled, raising the  __ Vangelis  up, off planet, into orbit and beyond.


End file.
